Close Relations
by dreams.of.destiny
Summary: Crackfic. Poly-amorousness knows no bounds as half the world fantasizes about being with Yao. Unrepentantly plotless, and with enough unresolved sexual tension in the air to cut with a knife. Many!nations/China, featuring the Axis, Allies, and Asians.
1. the rabid nextdoor neighbor

another presentation by dreamsofdestiny!

...As any nation will tell you, close relations are good relations - and good relations are beneficial to thriving economics and throbbing - _wait what_?  
Poly-amorousness knows no bounds as half the world (actually less) fantasizes about being with Yao. Unrepentantly plotless, and with enough unresolved sexual tension in the air to cut with a knife.

pairings: (in-order) Russia/China, Japan/China, Korea/China, England/China, US/China, HongKong/China/Taiwan, Prussia/China/Germany, All-Previously-Mentioned-Nations/China~

notes: literally, a pairing per chapter, a chapter per day, and seven chapters (_edit: eight_) total (this'll be done in a week - come hell or high water!). also! continuous storyline.

(...)

x x x **C**_lose_ **R**_elations_ x x x

x..._one_...x

[the rabid next-door neighbor]

(...)

"Yao~" Ivan called, knocking (nicely!) on the door of the Chinese UN representative's room. The handle was well-made, having withstood his various Mission Impossibles (1, 2, _and_ 3) - appropriately named, namely because cracking the damn combination and keyholder signature was proving to be impossible. The door swung open, revealing a... marginally displeased representative.

"What." It was a statement, not a question, and the courtship would be cut short if the doorknob had anything to say about it.

"I was thinking," Ivan started, putting on his self-proclaimed 'cheerful' face, "Since there's no meeting today for the United Nations, and the weather is so wonderfully _warm_, maybe we could go for a stroll today?" He laughed, taking note of Yao's less-than-enthusiastic facial expression, "The sun is shining and the birds are chirping, as they say in America, da?"

"Ivan," Yao groaned - the only problem was that it was a groan of agony, not of pleasure, "The reason why there's no meeting for the UN today, aru, is because you and Alfred accidentally set fire to the whole west wing! And it's -5 degrees outside, that's actually the moon not the sun, and any birds that are chirping would have to be defrosted first!" He put his hands to his hips - an overly sexy position, Ivan would note, except Yao was busy thinking about another reason why not to go out. With Ivan. "And!" the sleep-deprived nation added, "It's four AM in the morning - jetlag or not!"

"Setting fire to the west wing was all Alfred's fault!" Ivan protested.

"I seem to recall you running around with a flamethrower - _Gilbert's_ flamethrower, might I add - and dousing everything in sight with oil, aru," Yao grumbled, massaging his eyelids and wishing for another blessed half-an-hour of sleep.

"...It was mostly Alfred's fault," Ivan corrected, "But why are you so mad about it anyways, YaoYao?" he grinned, motioning the other to step outside (in the absolutely not-freezing weather!), "The flames never reached this side of the building, da?"

"I was at the meeting," Yao flatly replied, "My hair was singed."

Silence.

"Poor YaoYao!" Ivan simpered, raising a gloved hand - only to snicker behind it, "I can make it up to you, though! We can go to a nearby café, and you can have everything you'd like! I'll be paying, you see?"

"It's still four in the morning," Yao replied - though Ivan could see the other's penchant for free food was beginning to kick in (he thanked the cheapskate blood that ran through Yao's veins). "Are any restaurants or shops even open-aru?"

"I'm sure they'll be... more than willing..." Ivan replied with another winsome smile, pulling out a pipe from his pipe-storage pocket. "At the fifth street café, there is a Sanrio store right next to it," he 'carelessly' tossed out. He could literally see Yao's eyes lighting up - all thoughts of going back to sleep forgotten.

"Give me five minutes to get dressed," Yao said, combing a hand through his (still in a godforsaken ponytail!) hair.

"Let me help you~" Ivan offered - in a friendly manner, with only the best and most innocent intentions at heart. Plus, the idea of Yao, squirming and writhing in his grasp, with only a jacket on was pretty damn -

Yao promptly slammed the door in his face.

"I'll meet you in the waiting room!" Ivan called through the terrible steel door (the only thing, excluding the handle, combination, and keyholder signature, that stood between him and a writhing, sweating, half-dressed Yao). Naturally, Yao didn't respond, but Ivan could hardly care less - after all, it wasn't everyday he managed to snatch a meeting-come-date with Yao! Hurriedly, he grabbed a scarf and his wallet - he had promised to pay, after all - reaching for the telephone to dial a couple numbers (namely the Sanrio store and the Fifth Street Café).

Two minutes, three name-drops, and one somewhat-veiled threat later, and both store owners were more-than-willing to open their stores a couple hours earlier than their 'normal' hours. Ivan smiled, humming a wayward Russian tune to himself, before grabbing a bottle of petroleum jelly (the one that he had brought all the way from Alaska), figuring 'anything is possible'.

Although - thinking it through some more - doing the deed in a Hello Kitty store seemed... somewhat inappropriate.

Shrugging such thoughts off, Ivan cheerily made his way to the waiting room where, much to his delight, Yao was already waiting for him!

"You're early," he remarked, hoping that his surprise - and absolute delight - didn't show as much as his voice made it sound. Yao rolled his eyes, although a smile could be made out from the curve of his face, before walking towards the front door of the UN building.

"Let's use the back door!" Ivan suggested. "To avoid the reporters that may be swarming the front, da?" he elaborated in reaction to Yao's quizzical glance. "Besides, the back door is closer to fifth street than the front door."

"Alright," Yao acquiesced, seeing noting to argue really. The two of them made their to the back of the building, stepping through the not-smoking-_anymore_ cinders of the meeting room - where Yao shot an accusing glance at Ivan, only to be rebuffed with a hearty laugh and equally-heavy pat on the back. Outside of the remains of the meeting room, there wasn't much to see in the UN building.

"_Francis_! Come back here with my briefs this instant!"

Nothing to see indeed.

"Let's hold hands~!" Ivan declared, sticking out his gloved right hand.

Yao flushed, drawing back and away - darn! there went the purpose of the petroleum jelly! - stuttering out, "N-No, aru! I don't have any gloves, and it's too cold, an-and we're too old to be acting like children, especially this early in the morning, aru!" But of course, the flush on his face was only absolutely adorable, and Ivan cheerily ignored Yao's complaints, reaching forth his hand to link along with Yao's noticeably-smaller one.

"See? It's not too cold!" Ivan commented as they made their way out the back entrance.

"Hmph..." Yao grumbled. And then sighed, shaking his head, "I'm sorry Ivan, I'm normally not this grumpy," he laughed, "I think it's because of the jetlag and the weather."

"Worry not," Ivan replied, smiling as the two of them neared the café, "Jetlag makes a good appetite, and the appetite comes before eating!" And with that, the light from the Fifth Street Café - one of the only two lights on the street, really - shone through, and Ivan smiled, because he really did like the manager of the café and the manager did own _such_ a lovely car.

"Ivan..." Yao started in a suspicious tone, "Why is it that only the café and the Sanrio store are open?"

"Ah, well," To lie a lot or to lie a little was the big question here, "Perhaps the stores are just opening early today? Trying to get all the customers they can, da?"

"...Right," Yao hesitantly confirmed. He shrugged a bit before smiling, turning to Ivan, squeezing the hand that was wrapped securely around his own, and whispering, "Thank you."

"Anything for you!" Ivan laughed; even as his heart was beating and stomach performed somersaults. Plural.

The waitress that greeted them looked a bit bedraggled - dragged out of her apartment at four AM by a desperate manager, actually. Ivan smiled something that could have been apologetic to the non-sleep-deprived eye, making sure to remember to leave a large tip.

"Wow!" Yao exclaimed, eyes glancing through the pages of the menu, "This café really does have a lot of selection, aru!" His eyes glanced over the lovely pictures and descriptions and titles, and then completely skipped the ludicrous prices (Ivan was paying, after all), "How many items am I allowed to order, Ivan?" It might have been the somewhat rosiness of his cheeks, or the way his eyes lit up, or maybe it was the fact that Yao was still willingly! holding onto his hand, despite the fact they had reached the restaurant already. Whatever the cause, Ivan had only one pre-programmed response.

"As much as you're able to eat, da?"

"Haha!" Yao laughed, amused, "That's very nice of you, Ivan. But really, an actual number would be helpful, aru."

"Alright," Ivan replied, thinking of a number that was not entirely insane (and yet still unreachable), "Fourty."

"S-Sir, that's our entire menu," the waitress cut in.

"Yay!" Yao cheered - and how could Ivan retract his words when Yao was looking so sweetly _fuckable_? - "Then I'll have one of everything on the menu, please! And with a chocolate milkshake too?" He looked expectantly at Ivan.

"Of course," Ivan said. And then the waitress turned to him, asking what he would like, and the gears began spinning in his head. YaoYao _had_ implied that he had quite the appetite, right? A chance to actually use the already-opened petroleum jelly. "Double his order," he said cheerily to the waitress before turning to Yao, "I'll be eating everything that you're eating!"

"If you can," Yao pointed out, as the waitress hurried to the back to prepare their monstrous orders.

"Yao!" Ivan jokingly admonished, "When you speak like this, I think that you think that you have a bigger stomach than I do, da?" Yao laughed, neither affirming nor denying, "Well then," Ivan started with a smile, "Why don't we place a tiny little wager on this?"

"Who can eat more, aru?" Yao asked - ever so ready for a 'fun' gamble.

"Well, if both of us can finish the same meal, there can be no contest," Ivan pointed out, "So I propose... an eating competition where we... race, is that the word?" He continued with, "But it's no fun if there's nothing to win, da? So I also propose some... stakes... to be defined, to reward the winner, you see?" The dent in the wallet resulting from this endeavor was feeling smaller already!

"Alright," Yao agreed, "That sounds like fun! What are we wagering?"

"If I win," Ivan started, cheerful smile in-place, "I want to fuck you - in this café - now." There; he said it, it was out in the open.

Yao, of course, was expected to flush deeply, and then Ivan would retract his 'wager' and place a more 'truthful' one on the table. That was what Ivan had thought, at least. Except Yao simply raised an eyebrow, before smiling - in a devilishly sexy manner, of course.

"And I win, aru," Yao started, smile still in place, "Then you'll buy me the entire Sanrio store that's right next door?"

"Deal," Ivan declared, as the two of them shook hands. Right on cue, the waitress appeared with their plates-on-_plates_ of food. Cakes and custards, namely. Yao's eyes were sparkling, but not as much as Ivan - if it was an _eating_ competition, he would surely win. The fact that they had stopped holding hands in order to properly grasp knife and fork, in preparation of some serious eating of course, failed to come to his attention. The petroleum jelly! The café! The timing!

"Ready?" Yao asked, raising a fork over his miniature Genevian Egg (raspberry filling).

"Go," Ivan declared, shoving the first slice of cake down his throat.

The waitress stared in something like abject horror - mixed with hints of disbelief and chants of 'I'm still dreaming, I'm still dreaming,' of course - as the two men who just up-and-ready came into the café, then demanded the whole menu, stuffed cake after pie after custard after éclair down their mouth. One was clearly enjoying the 'meal,' while the other seemed to be under the impression that _inhaling_ food was the proper way to eat. Fourty chocolate-drizzled, strawberry-topped, and caramel-flavored servings later, Ivan downed the last of his chocolate milkshake, wondering which place was the kinkiest to start (bar, counter, table? _definitely table_).

"Finally!" Yao grumbled, setting down his fork, as Ivan 'set down' his jaw.

And by set down - 'dropped'.

Because - there! in front of him! - was _Yao_, who was looking perfect alright, after having, apparently, eaten fourty plates of sweets-on-sweets-on-_sweets_, and... and... and!

"You..." Ivan croaked out, the massive intake of sugar finally settling around his throat, pointing at Yao with such fervor and disbelief that he made the waitress look bored, "How did you... How did you manage to finish... finish before me...?"

"Well," Yao sighed, smiling sweetly, "Let's just say I'm a pretty fast eater, aru?" And then he grinned, pointing outside, "And look, the sun's almost completely out! And don't you owe me an entire store of Sanrio now?" Ivan stared straight ahead for a couple seconds, before blinking himself out of his horror-stricken reverie and placing a couple hundred-dollar bills on the table, mumbling something along the lines of 'keep the tip' and mumbling 'jelly... jelly...!' Yao laughed, tugging the other up. "I was pretty unhappy about my hair being singed yesterday, so thank you for cheering me up, Ivan~" he murmured, dragging the shell-shocked nation out of the café - towards the Sanrio store, of course.

And then - right before leaving the café completely - Yao turned back and winked at the waitress.

(...)


	2. that one obsessive sibling

(...)

x x x **C**_lose_ **R**_elations_ x x x

x..._two_...x

[that one obsessive sibling]

(...)

"No really, it's okay..." Yao tried again, clutching loosely onto his cellphone. He ran a hand through his somewhat-disheveled hair; sure, the four AM wake-up wasn't that wonderful, but his new 'inventory' (store, really) of Sanrio merchandise more than made up for it. "It wasn't that bad, Kiku, _really_." A pause as the person on the other end of the phone retorted something. "No really, you don't need to -" Yao blinked, the connection had been abruptly cut off.

"Sheesh-aru!" he grumbled, "I'm practically twice as old as him, and do I ever get the respect I deserve?" He cleared a couple magazines off the top of the suite's desk, hoping the place would look relatively presentable. Yes, he was a nation, and yes, he was the oldest nation (in New York at the time, at least!), but that didn't mean anything in the face of -

_Knock-knock_.

"Coming, coming," Yao muttered, walking to the door. "If that's you, Ivan, I'm going to warn you that you can't come over because my little brother is coming over and -" the door swung open, and he felt his jaw drop.

"K-Kiku..." Yao stuttered out. "Wh-what about - ?" The car ride, the jet, the fact that you were supposedly in _Japan_ which is seven hours away on a _Concorde_, he would have put in. Except Kiku leveled him with _that_ kind of glance, and then crisply interrupted.

"Yao-_nii_, it's so nice to see you," the two of them embraced - as per usual - and then Kiku narrowed his eyes, continuing with, "And what's this about Ivan? Are you letting him into your room again? What have I told you about being careful and safe?" Kiku put his hands on his hips, mimicking Yao's earlier posture, "I thought you would be the slightest bit unhappy, seeing as how he burnt your hair and all."

"No, Kiku," Yao sighed, feeling like the child of the two, "I'm _not_ letting Ivan in my room-aru! He just took me out to a café in the morning, and then shopping."

"A café. And then shopping," Kiku stonily repeated. Yao nodded, slowly. Right before seriously considering taking a nearby Hello Kitty pillow and smothering Ivan with said pillow, Kiku sighed, relaxing and continuing with, "I'm sorry for being so... uptight, Yao-_nii_. It's just that it was rather worrying when you told us that you had burned your hair at the last Security Council meeting."

"Oh Kiku," Yao smiled, "It's really nice to know that you guys care!" And he hugged his (adorable) little sibling again - much to the other's chagrin. "However," and here, he frowned, "My hair wasn't even burned-aru! It was just singed a little bit by Gilbert's flamethrower! It's no reason for you to come all the way over here from your economics council in Japan."

"There was a _flamethrower_?" Kiku asked, incredulous. Yao rolled his eyes, sensing yet another 'think about safety' lecture, but nodding. "Well, nonetheless," Kiku pressed, "It was... nice... to see you." A pause and then, "That you are doing well, I mean." He swept a critical gaze around the room, raising an eyebrow at the sheer amount of Sanrio paraphernalia, "I'll be going now."

"Wait!" Yao called out, grabbing Kiku's arm, "You just got here-aru!"

"I just came to make sure you were alright, singed hair and wild flamethrowers and all," Kiku replied - _dryly_. Then he gently tugged his arm out of Yao's grip, stating, "And since you're alright, it would be best if I went back to the economics council in Japan, as you've suggested."

"But..." the weight of guilt was a heavy one, "But you just got here-aru!" Yao repeated.

"Yao-_nii_, there's nothing for me to do here," Kiku reasoned.

"You could..." Yao - still feeling guilty for having 'scolded' Kiku for coming over to check if he was alright - racked his mind for something Kiku could do, "You could watch some television!" Somehow, Kiku was not impressed with the 48-inch HDTV placed in the suite. "Or go out and eat!" Kiku raised an eyebrow. "Or..." Yao sincerely regretted his final suggestion, "Or you could trim the ends of my hair."

"...What?" Kiku choked out.

"Well..." Yao started, guilt pushing him forward, "The thing is, aru, my hair was singed a bit... and I tried to cut it... but I didn't manage to get all of the curled parts out." He grinned - _helplessly_ - at Kiku, shrugging, "So could you help me trim those ends a bit, Kiku?"

"Alright," Kiku replied, and Yao smiled widely - completely unaware that he had inadvertently fulfilled one of Kiku's deepest, darkest fantasies. There was a gleam in Kiku's eyes - which should have been the first warning for Yao. And if the odd _sparkle_ in Kiku's eye wasn't enough, the fact that he seemed to have whipped out a pair of scissors from thin air should have been enough of a warning.

It wasn't.

"Yao-_nii_," Kiku started, in a conversational tone, much to Yao's delight, "I've never seen you getting your hair cut before."

"Well..." Yao thought for a more appropriate answer than, 'that's because I haven't cut my hair in fifty-seven years, and wanted it to be one hundred, actually,' and settled on the half-truth of, "My hair just doesn't grow very fast, aru!"

"Ah," Kiku said, parting Yao's hair into two perfectly-equal sides with a barber's comb. "I'm not really a hair-cutter," he commented, combing the naturally-silky hair. "So I apologize if I manage to ruin anything, Yao-_nii_."

"Silly!" Yao laughed, "Why would you be the one to apologize? I'm the one who asked you to cut my hair, after all." He hummed the theme song of Hello Kitty & Friends, enjoying the feel of another person's fingers, gingerly brushing away (left, right, side-to-side) the individual strands of his beloved hair. "Just don't cut it too short, please," Yao hastily added - horrified at the possibility of too-short hair. "If I had Im-Yong Soo or Ivan do this," he started with a laugh, "Then they probably would have messed up and given me a crew-cut, aru!"

Kiku could not stifle his laughter at the idea of Yao sporting a crew-cut.

"Why are there so many Hello Kitty things in your room?" Kiku asked, choosing to switch the subject.

"Well, I really like Kitty-chan~" Yao replied cheerily. "Well..." he guiltily continued, "I beat Ivan in a food-eating contest, and then made him buy me everything in the Sanrio store on fifth street..." he sighed, "I'm really happy about winning so much Kitty-chan stuff, but I have no idea how to get it back!"

"...Wait a second," Kiku paused in his meticulous cutting, "Yao-_nii_... did you say that you... that you beat _Ivan_ in an eating competition?" The level of disbelief in his voice was audible.

"What?" Yao pouted, "Just because I'm shorter and thinner than Ivan doesn't mean I can't eat more, aru!" He crossed his arms and blew a stray strand of hair from his eyes, "Or faster!" he added. Kiku raised an eyebrow, before returning to his cutting of Yao's hair.

Snip. Snip. Snip. The scissors were as careful as they were slow. Strand by strand, Kiku took care in cutting the least amount of hair, making sure to cut off all of the singed portions in the process. Wayward conversation - small talk, really - about vaious sweet foods and economic incentives was made, though it was sparse and filled with lengthy pauses. In a matter of time (half an hour, really, though it felt like the blink of an eye for Kiku), the singed portions of Yao's hair were lying - ever so neatly - on the floor.

"Are you done?" Yao hesitantly asked.

"Wait," Kiku took up the comb once more - wanting to feel the softness, the smoothness, of Yao's hair - just once more. "Let me comb all the little ends out of your hair." Once more, Yao stilled, letting Kiku run the comb through his - slowly, gently, the teeth of the comb made their way through the strands of would-be silk, almost clinging to the edges of the fine threads.

"Mmm..." Yao moaned - ever so softly - when the comb made its way across the top of his scalp once more. Simultaneously, the two of them froze, one in shock, and the other in abject horror and humiliation. "Oh God - " Yao gasped, clasping his hand across his mouth, "You didn't just hear that, Kiku," his face was heating up entirely too fast, and his voice was reaching its high levels, "You definitely did _not_ just hear that, Kiku!"

"Of course not, Yao-_nii_," Kiku soothed, even though his heart was beating - like a drum, really - and his face was quickly sprinting to meet Yao's hue of red. And then, experimentally of course, he ran the comb down Yao's scalp again, eliciting the same sort of sigh. Perhaps, Kiku thought with a racing heart, Yao-_nii_ was one of those individuals who happened to have an overly sensitive scalp? "Do you want me to stop, Yao-_nii_?" he asked, just to be on the safe side.

"N-no..." Yao mumbled out, subconsciously leaning into the teeth of the comb, much to Kiku's delight - and rising blood pressure levels.

It was yet another 'what if?' experiment, really. The fact of the matter was, Kiku didn't _normally_ carry around scissors and combs and... hair bands. But Yao-_nii_ had always been the exception. Yao seemed to be completely distracted by the 'massage' his scalp was receiving, and as such, Kiku - with trembling hands (and a terribly _giddy_ smile) - parted Yao's hair once more.

Except this time, he did not cut any of it. Rather, he gathered the parted halves and, using the comb, managed to neatly...

"Kiku?" Yao asked once more, "...What are you doing, aru?"

...make two _adorable_ pigtails on both sides of Yao's face.

"N-Nothing..." Kiku mumbled, before playing a quick round of 'yes-or-no' with himself, with the question 'should I keep Yao-_nii_'s hair like this?' In the end, one glance at Yao - hair no longer singed, and no longer in its customary single ponytail - was enough to bring convince him entirely. And then the gleam returned.

"Yao-_nii_," he started, and Yao immediately tensed up, mainly because he had heard KIku use that tone of voice on only _one_ other occasion, and the results were, needless to say, not very pretty. Without waiting for a response, Kiku continued, "Because I came all the way over here to make sure you were alright, and then skipped my _very important_ economics council meeting to trim your hair, could I ask for something?"

Everything righteous and sane in Yao's mind screamed at him to say no. But that one little nagging voice - the one called 'guilt' - affirmed Kiku's statement.

"Of course..." Yao ground out, clenching his fists and preparing his mind for the worst. He wasn't prepared.

Thirteen hair clips, two combs, three bottles of some aquamarine hair dye, four entirely out of character _squeals_ (coming from Kiku, but of course), and half an hour of 'What-aru?' and 'No! No! No!' later, and Yao found himself staring at that Matsune Hiku girl. In his mirror. With marginally shorter hair - but still _in-costume_. And there was even that _ridiculous_ headset. In his mirror. On his head.

"Aghhh!" Yao wailed, "Why do you always _do_ this to me, Kiku?"

"Wait, wait, Yao-_nii_!" Kiku flailed, desperately snapping picture after picture - from every single angle imaginable, "I've... I've always thought that you would make an adorable Miku-chan!" Yao pouted, instinctively grabbing for a Hello Kitty plushie to soothe himself, holding it close to his chest. This, of course, caused Kiku to squeal even louder; the camera flashes were blinding.

"Thank you for having me over," Kiku said - after they had cleaned away the cut hair strands, taken Yao out of the cosplay outfit, and gotten the aquamarine hair dye out of a certain nation's hair. He bowed deeply, flushing a little bit, "I'm... sorry... to have gotten a little bit carried away." Yao laughed - most likely at the 'little bit' part.

"No problem-aru! And thank you for cutting my hair so nicely!" Yao replied, smiling sunnily and embracing Kiku once more. Absent-mindedly, he thumbed his now-smooth threads of hair, _almost_ enjoying their new length. Almost. The younger nation braced himself for the words that Yao said every time - that broke his heart every time, "What are siblings for, after all?"

Stiffly, Kiku nodded, before compacting his various supplies to fit in his pocket. And then he cast one final glance around Yao's UN suite, before adding, "And I'll send you the next shipment of Kitty-chan merchandise directly, so you won't need to go through Ivan."

"Oh Kiku!" Yao dramatically cried, launching himself at his younger sibling, much to the other's chagrin (and delight!), "You're the best little brother _ever_-aru!"

(...)


	3. that other compulsive sibling

(...)

x x x **C**_lose_ **R**_elations_ x x x

x..._three_...x

[that other compulsive sibling]

(...)

As usual, the meeting room for the United Nations was being repaired with great speed and ease (it wasn't the first time the room had been demolished - though it was the first time a flamethrower was involved!). Yao sighed, at peace once more, after hearing the hammering of nails and drilling of wood in the background. There wasn't much for him to do, what with the repairs going on and all.

He had entertained himself with watching the television, except there was nothing good (no surprise, the UN were too cheap to subscribe to anything but the political channels...), and reading the newspaper, only to discover that _someone_ must have taken it, because it was not there. Then he sighed, because suddenly, the wonderful stack of Kitty-chan toys didn't seem so wonderful, particularly because it was blocking the window with its immense height.

"Well!" he declared to no one in particular, "I shouldn't be bored-aru! I should be happy and excited! Ivan bought me a lot of Kitty-chan goods, and Kiku managed to get the dye out of my hair!" And then his smile dropped two watts; Yao shuddered at the memories of that particular dress-up session. The scarier thing was that it wasn't the first, and he _knew_ it wouldn't be the last.

"Anyways, I can play with Kitty-chan~" And then he turned to the huge pile of Hello Kitty merchandise - the one that had been stacked so neatly, thanks to two hours of nothing to do (which meant that indirectly, it was thanks to Alfred and Ivan as well).

Only to find it was not there.

Yao blinked. Once, twice. "What?" his voice sounded small, but he could hardly care, namely because that large lovely wonderful pile of Hello Kitty merchandise (the one that he had managed to get for _free_ - and off of _Ivan_ as well!) was now... not there. "What?" he cried out, voice hitting yet another high note for the day.

"Hello~!" a voice - one that he most knew - called out from below the window, "Yao-_hyung_!" Im-Yong Soo joyously called out, effortlessly climbing in through the window. "Kiku told me that you got your hair cut, so I wanted to see how it looked, da-ze~!" he cheerily said, as if that was any reason or explanation for Yao. On Yao's part, he stood quivering with disbelief-come-rage.

"Im-Yong Soo," he ground out, "Where did all of my Kitty-chan things go?"

"Oh those," the other carelessly noted, "Well, you see, Yao-_hyung_," he started with a smile, "I needed to get to your room in the UN, but then I had forgotten my card key at home, and since they changed the password combination for your room, I couldn't exactly _break in_ right? And so I went around, looking and looking for some way to see my dearest _hyung-nim_, and then there was the HUGE pile of stuffed animals and I figured you wouldn't mind if I used a few to make a ladder to get up here!" And with that, he gestured - proudly - at the questionably strung-together 'ladder' made entirely of Sanrio products.

Yao could've cried - right then and there.

"A ladder," he said instead, with a voice devoid of emotion. "You used _all_ of my Kitty-chan things to make a ladder."

"Yup!" Im-Yong Soo proudly replied, "But it's not just any ladder; it's a ladder that is the perfect height for climbing in and out of your room!"

"Out! _Out_!" Yao cried, face red - with anger and sleep-deprivation and shock - and hands moving faster than his mind. Im-Yong Soo, who isn't even completely in the suite, just halfway really, widened his eyes and opened his mouth, to form a little 'o' of surprise. "I can't believe - " Yao continued, only to stop in a harrowing halt, because his hands were in front of him, and Im-Yong was five inches away - tentwentyfifty - farther, farther, farther.

Yao noticed the wide-eyed surprise on both their faces, and the fact that Im-Yong Soo's hand reached out just that little bit and - for a second - Yao thought that their fingertips might just touch. Might.

And then the the resounding crash - the one that never came.

"Im-Yong Soo!" Yao shouted, leaning completely out the open window. He let out a sigh of relief, knees buckling below him, after having seen the other hanging on - barely - to the makeshift 'ladder' - just four feet from hitting the ground. "I'm so so _so_ sorry, aru!" Yao gasped out, forcing himself to get up on his feet in order to drag his fellow nation in. It took a great deal of effort, and Im-Yong Soo was uncharacteristically silent the whole way through. Yao lunged forward to grab at the other's hands, pulling him completely in and paying no attention to the now-ripped stuffed animals.

"I'm so glad you're alright," Yao whispered, hands clenching and unclenching.

Im-Yong Soo refused to make eye contact.

"Sorry for making you rip all your stuffed animals," he stiffly said.

"They don't matter!" Yao declared, "You're _much_ more important than them! I'm so sorry for pushing you out the window - for losing my temper like that! I'm so sorry Im-Yong Soo," he bowed his head, "I just... I wasn't thinking very clearly." So stupid of himself; what kind of elder _was_ he?

"Liar," The other nation accused, without any malice in his tone. "You were thinking perfectly clearly, Yao-_hyung_. You were just trying to get rid of me; of course you value the Hello Kitty animals more than me!" his lips were pressed together, trembling in finality, "Kiku gives you Kitty-chan merchandise, Ivan keeps you company, and Alfred and Arthur are trading partners! But what about me, what do _I_ give you?"

"Im-Yong Soo, that's not - "

"Yes it is! It has _always_ been like this," Im-Yong Soo insisted, "I'm always second! You never have time for me; there's always something more important, there's always something better to do!"

Instead of replying, Yao walked up to his younger sibling, flicking him squarely across the nose.

"Ow!" Im-Yong Soo cried out, halting his tirade, "What was that for?" he demanded, curling a hand around his nose - to shield against future blows.

"For thinking less-clearly than _me_, aru," Yao flatly said. "You give me laughter, you give me light; you give me family and affection and adoration!" Im-Yong Soo's eyes widened; he was entirely unused to such vocabulary, "And even if you didn't give me anything," Yao pressed, "You would still matter more than all the Kitty-chan stuffed animals in the world." And then he sighed, relaxing his features and taking on a more concerned look. "You never told me you felt this way, Im-Yong Soo."

"But I've been trying to - for years!" the other protested, heart beating a du-dum, du-dum once more, because today might just be the day - the day Yao-_hyung_ would finally understand the meaning of all those letters and gifts and random appearances in even more random places.

Yao sighed again, massaging his forehead, "I'm so sorry, Im-Yong Soo," he repeated, "I make it up to you, in any way I can," he continued, causing Im-Yong Soo's pulse to accelerate, as well as clear his mind from all previously-negative feelings. And then - of course - Yao crashed them lower with his ending of, "I never knew that you felt overshadowed by people like Ivan and Alfred and Arthur!"

"I... I..." His mind raced, trying to salvage the situation - so that Yao would be redirected to the 'right' topic.

"Here, I'll prove to you that you'll always be more important!" and with that, Yao quickly pulled out his cellphone, "Oh damn," he muttered, "I forgot both Alfred and Arthur had their cellphones burned in the fire." The casual tone of voice which he used was alarming. "Ah, well, I call still call Ivan, aru!" And with a couple expert clicks of the phone's numbers (in an entirely too practiced manner, Im-Yong Soo thought), Yao was dialing Ivan.

The first ring hadn't even ended when Ivan picked up, much to Yao's surprise.

"Ivan?" Yao said, "This is Yao. I'm calling to cancel our lunch meeting because Im-Yong Soo came over and I wanted to bond with him, aru!" And before Ivan could get out a 'we never _had_ a lunch meeting, YaoYao!', Yao had clicked shut the phone.

"There!" Yao triumphantly declared, "Is that a bit more reassuring, Im-Yong Soo?" Yao smiled, sweetly, turning to his darling younger brother, "I'm sorry I seem so busy and absent-minded. You and Kiku are often on my mind; I just... I just didn't really think you guys needed to know that, aru..." And then he trailed off, blushing a bit, before hugging Im-Yong Soo lightly.

"It's..." Im-Yong Soo started, shoulders dropping a bit because he was - so _close_ - and then Yao-_hyung_ just had to be as oblivious as always. He wanted to rage a bit, perhaps even convince Yao to see the truth, but then figured, ah what-the-hell. It - _this_ - was, after all, just another reason as to why he only had eyes for Yao-_hyung_. "It's alright." He said, firmly. "I was just being childish and insecure, Yao-_hyung_, but thank you for... reassuring... me. I'm sorry about the stuffed animals, it really was my fault!"

"What do you mean?" Yao instantly replied, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Im-Yong Soo laughed - nervously - scratching his head awkwardly - even his ahoge-face colored in-coordination.

"Well," Im-Yong Soo started, taking a deep breath before letting loose, "I was originally going to go through the normal way because even without the card key I would have been able to get through the gates, being a nation and all, da-ze, and then I looked at your window and saw a lot of Hello Kitty things and then I felt jealous because you had all those stuffed animals and I wanted one but you would never give me one so I decided that you shouldn't have them either and then I purposely used them as a ladder."

"Im-Yong Soo," Yao murmured, picking up the ripped-off arm of a Hello Kitty Hawaiian-style plush pillow - a limited edition one, at that - and tossing it carelessly to the side, "...I can't believe I almost caused you to break a couple bones because of that!" And then he laughed, affectionately, before ushering his younger sibling onto the couches of the suite. "It's... it's really silly, now that, what, five minutes have passed?" he wiped a tear from his eye, the product of laughing too much, "It all seems so silly now, doesn't it, aru?"

"Definitely!" Im-Yong Soo agreed, with an equally-wide smile. "But it's okay, Yao-_hyung_," he said with a joking smile, "Because one day, you too, will be as old and wise as I am. And then you'll understand how important it is to resolve conflicts in ways that do _not_ involve pushing your fellow nations out windows, da-ze~!" Yao rolled his eyes, muttering something along the lines of 'I should be saying that to you!'. "And also!" Im-Yong Soo piped up, "You told Ivan you had canceled your lunch meeting, right?"

"...Right..." Yao hesitantly put out, hoping his (not-terribly thorough, thankfully) younger sibling wouldn't go through the trouble of verifying this piece of information.

"And the reason was because you wanted to have... _bonding_ time with me, right?" And here, Im-Yong Soo playfully arched his eyebrow at the word 'bonded' - a not-so-subtle hint that Yao only completely missed (either that, or ignored).

"...Yes?" Yao replied, uncertainly.

"Well then, let's go outside and bond, right?" Im-Yong Soo grinned, grabbing his beloved older brother's hand and pulling the two of them up. "There's a really good café that Eduard-_nim_ and Lili-_dongseang_ recommended! It's on fifth street~" he gaily said, as Yao paused.

"Wait... fifth street?" And then blanched, "And Lili-_dongsaeng_?" his eyes widened to saucers, "Y-You couldn't possibly be talking about Vash's little sister, right, aru?"

"But I am, da-ze~" Im-Yong Soo cheerily replied, "She's nothing like her brother at all," he added, when Yao shuddered - and then scoffed, "And she's very good at RPG _and_ FPS games! The three of us often work on the coding behind these things, you know?"

"I didn't know," Yao murmured, raising an eyebrow. "Wow, aru!" he declared, grabbing the handle of the door and motioning for Im-Yong Soo to step out first, "You're right; there is a lot of bonding that we need to do! I can't believe I didn't know that about the three of you!" And then he laughed, clapping Im-Yong Soo on the back, "However, as close as we may be, I must tell you that if you ever think that you have a chance with Vash's little sister, even I will not help you when you are facing the wrong end of Vash's gun!" Yao thought about it, as Im-Yong Soo flushed, ready to make fervent denial after denial, "Or should I say _guns_, aru?"

"It's definitely not like that, Yao-_hyung_!" Im-Yong Soo protested. "Can't you see I only have eyes for you, dearest brother?" And then he, too, cracked up in a smile, adding cheerfully, "My dear _hyung-nim_ who will _surely_ give me the next Hello Kitty plushie Kiku send him, right?"

"Ri - " Yao was about to say. Except he remembered that the July edition of Hello Kitty Monthly was an sailor!kitty. Complete with an adorable sailor hat! "We'll see..." he amended, laughing nervously. "Now about that café, let's order anything but the sweet food, okay?"

"Aww..." Im-Yong Soo whined, "But it's only in America that they put enough sugar in these things!" A pause, as Yao shuddered - remembering the sheer amount of sugar he had consumed a mere seven hours ago, and then Im-Yong Soo gasped.

"Yao-_hyung_! Do you think that I'm... _fat_?"

(...)


	4. the only other sane man

notes: I'm going to pull this out to eight chapters, actually. The eighth chapter is _definitely_ going to be (all the previously mentioned nations in the chapters) / (China). I'll pick the seventh pairing when I get there; so far - France, Germany, and Rome are looking good... Dx

did you know? in some of the japanese fandom circles, Arthur/Yao is referred to as the "merry tea couple" (or the "delicious tea couple"). how could I _not_ follow that up in some way, shape, or form?

(...)

x x x **C**_lose_ **R**_elations_ x x x

x..._four_...x

[the only other sane man]

(...)

"Bloody bugger!" Arthur swore out, kicking the door of a certain idiot's suite shut. It closed with a 'thunk' - nothing near the resounding bang he had been meaning to achieve - but ah, well, life was hardly a movie, now was it? Arthur scowled at the door for a couple more seconds, before grumbling his way to another person's suite. Someone who, unlike the previous _moron_, could actually appreciate the finer aspects of life and tradition.

And by 'life and tradition,' of _course_ he meant tea.

"Yao!" he called out, rapping - politely, of course - at the door of said nation. He waited, rather patiently he thought (at very least, with more patience than he was willing to give a certain still-rebellious ex-colony), before muttering something about 'slow reflexes' and the like. Thankfully, he thought, he always carried the security key card that he had swiped off of Ivan (who, no doubt, was looking for said card at this very moment).

Then he tried to the handle of the suite, only to find that it was not only un-encrypted, but unlocked as well. Raising an eyebrow, but saying nothing, he turned the knob, shrugging and pocketing said security card before making his way in Yao's suite.

"...Yao...?" he repeated, with noticeably more hesitation. It was with quiet footsteps that he padded his way into the larger room of the suite, taking note of the mostly turned-off lights. And then he sighed relief upon seeing the other nation, curled up peacefully against one of the various couches. Briefly, he toyed with the idea of waking the other up to go enjoy the finer aspects of tea, only to junk the idea entirely when Yao murmured something - in Chinese, of course - in his sleep.

"Rather tired, aren't you?" he muttered to no one in particular. And then he sighed, because he was really quite the soft-hearted person at times - much to his displeasure, particularly when it came to Alfred. He reached a hand forth, only to retract it, feeling more aged than he necessarily should, particularly since he was in the same room as someone who was - quite easily - double his age.

"And still looking so poncy..." he said - in what would have been a grumble - except his tone was much too soft, and his eyes were much too kind. A quick glance around the flat revealed the various torn body parts of stuffed animals. Arthur rolled his eyes, before he reached down to pick up... four legs, two arms, and one half of a creepishly-smiling Hello Kitty head. He shuddered; hoping that Yao wasn't entertaining some creepy fetish or another. He glanced over at Yao, half-ready to learn that the sleeping was just an act. Yao, of course, just dozed on, snuggling a bit tighter against the couch.

If the other wasn't so - politically and economically and ideologically - diametrically opposed to everything Arthur enjoyed (save for tea, of course!), he would have had half the heart to call Yao 'cute' at the moment. But they were - ever since the Great UN Fire of June 30, 2010 - enemies, to a certain degree.

Only to a certain degree, he repeated to himself, before reluctantly going into the bedroom and grabbing a duvet, tossing it lightly over Yao, and still making sure the other was fully covered. He was - and he admitted it to himself - _such_ the sap.

And then, because the hammering and nailing was still continuing, all in the best efforts to remake the UN room less bombable and flammable than ever, of course, Arthur felt the need to not go anywhere near his own suite, mainly because a certain frog would most certainly be there. He shuddered, again, at the thought of having to _help_ with the meeting room (mis)management. And inevitably having to listen to Francis complain about his (_entirely_ edible) cuisine.

In retrospect, he thought, sitting around and doing nothing in a sleeping person's room was actually a pretty smart decision.

Of course, one can only sit still and fiddle their thumbs for long. After, oh, thirty seconds of so of intensive thumb-fiddling (read: entirely boring), Arthur was certifiably bored out of his mind. The prospect of going near the remains of the meeting room looked as grim as ever, but he felt, well, inadequate, sitting here and doing nothing - particularly because his original reason for coming was to enjoy some bloody decent _tea_.

"Well," he declared, getting himself up from the couch he had sat himself down on, "I can still have the cake and eat it too," he mused, going into the kitchen. As luck (or really, the universe) would have it, Yao not only had teacups and teapots, but he had a rather... decent... collection of tea varieties. Arthur raised an eyebrow, reading the various types which the other - apparently - had gotten his hands on. The Iron Goddess, Fur Peak, Silver Well... even some 'normal' ones like Earl Grey and Darjeeling! And the brands - all the best, not just in price, but in availability and flavor as well!

Off-handedly, Arthur wondered if Yao would notice a couple bags (or boxes) missing.

The Earl Grey Yao had contained both Ceylon and Indian - a truly fine combination indeed. Plus, it was also _british_, which was all the more reason for Arthur to choose this particular type of tea.

He went through the steps with a sort of mechanical precision; bottled water (not boiled, not filtered, and most certainly _not_ tap), stone-edged teapot with ceramic lining, and of course, a well-used tea cozy - the kind that ripened with time.

Without thinking, he went, humming about some Liszt tune or another (a tune that the nailing and hammering in the other wing, no less!), and strained the tea leaves, in small bunches, and then together. A quick glance at the clock showed another three minutes, before the half-full teapot would reach boiling point. He shrugged; it was rather nice, actually - though he'd joyously drink _American_ beer before ever admitting so.

Yao, on the other hand, awakened to the sound of a tea kettle's whistle. He blinked; wondering if Im Yong Soo or Kiku had returned, or if - heaven forbid - Ivan had made well on his promise to finally crack the suite's security combination. It had been a rather... stressing... day, to say the least; in between the dark wake-up hours and the cosplaying (he shuddered here, _again_) and the luncheon.

The luncheon where Im Yong Soo took him to the very same fifth street café, and then _shamelessly_ ordered five different cakes, all sweet and all whole-sized. And then he had _insisted_ Yao help him eat the five cakes. After a full lunch. A sweet tooth was one thing, but this - the sheer amount of sugar he had consumed made Yao wonder if diabetes would be a very realistic fear, immortality or no.

Traumatizing flashbacks aside - he was getting way too old for this, Yao thought - he gracelessly flopped himself down from the couch, taking note of the single light, emanating from the kitchen. A quick whiff of air revealed that someone was brewing tea - was brewing _his_ tea. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the scent - something like lemon, perhaps orange?

But the distinctive smell of Earl Grey was a dead giveaway, really.

"Arthur?" he called out, surprise ringing from his voice. "What are you doing here, aru?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" the other replied, and Yao smiled, hearing the voice to be as moody as ever. "I'm brewing some tea - Earl Grey, of course - because you're the only person in the whole of the meeting room that's willing to appreciate something of such caliber!" And then he sniffed, haughtily, Yao thought (choking back a snicker), adding on, "Even though you refuse to add anything resembling _flavor_ in your teas."

"That's because the teas themselves have more than enough flavor," Yao readily responded, havign gone over this discussion-come-debate with Arthur time after time. "Furthermore," he continued, "my entire _day_ has been spent eating sweet after sweet. I think I'm ready for something bitter." He pulled himself a chair from the center-table, sitting himself down.

"I was going to make scones," Arthur added, "But then I noticed that you didn't have _any_ butter or eggs, much less flour!"

Yao thanked the heavens for not allowing him to run by the supermarket the day before.

"Such a pity," he cheerily said, as Arthur scowled, before turning around to turn off the stove. "Wh-what are you doing?" Yao nearily cried out, pushing himself out of his seat, "It's barely been two minutes, aru! What are you doing, turning off the stove and letting the tea leaves boil by themselves?" Desperately, he tried to place the kettle on the hot-spot once more, only to be stopped by an entirely too-smug Arthur.

"Why is the kettle so hot?" Yao asked, immediately noticing the waves of heat _radiating_ off of said appliance.

"It's a _new_ method of boiling tea," Arthur primly replied, still looking smug, as if he hadn't been advocating traditional methods of _decades_. "You simply turn the heat as hot as it'll go, and then let the tea boil as a result of the heat from the kettle, as opposed to the the bottom of the stove. Like this," he gestured to the steaming kettle, "the heat will be more evenly distributed, bringing out more of the flavor of the leaves."

"...Right..." Yao said, pursing his lips and looking skeptically at the 'boiled' kettle. "And you're absolutely certain you're not ruining my kettle in the process, aru?"

To which Arthur _flamboyantly_ shrugged, and Yao's eye twitched. But in the end, he let it go, namely because it wasn't even his kettle.

"Alright," Arthur declared, poking a spoon the the side of the kettle, then touching the spoon, and subsequently wincing - much to Yao's triumphant glee, "It seems about ready, will you get the cups?"

"Sure," Yao acquiesced, readying two matching cups. "Would you like to take one back to either Francis or Alfred? Or both?" he asked, readying himself to pull out another pair, only to have Arthur scoff and snort. "Having a little fight, now are we, aru?" Yao jokingly put out, placing both cups and saucers withing Arthur's pouring range. Supposedly.

"Closer," Arthur insisted, "I can't very well lift this pot when it's practically 120 degrees!" Yao rolled his eyes, muttering about ridiculous 'new' methods of boiling tea, before scooting both cups a couple inches closer. A couple tries and a few British swears (consisting entirely of 'fallyphoot,' 'bloody,' and 'bugger,' Yao noted), and the tea was precariously poured. Yao bit back a laugh before taking the saucers and gingerly setting them down on the table.

"Where's the sugar?" Arthur demanded, "And milk and honey?" he added. Yao rolled his eyes, before retrieving said items from the refridgerator and cupboard, setting them down on the table.

"I will never understand how you _enjoy_ tea like that," Yao noted, stirring his cup and admiring the spread of leaves.

"It's infinitely less sugar than what you consume with all those cakes and biscuits," Arthur reasonably pointed out, pouring in a rather heady quantity of sugar, honey, and milk. And then he sipped it, sighing in an almost-pleased manner, "Furthermore, the milk makes it so that the tea cools down faster - for those who actually try to keep their appointments."

"Entirely defeating the whole point of the boiling kettle, I assume?" Yao retorted, blowing the steam off of his tea.

"As soon as you drink it, you'll see the difference," Arthur reassured.

Yao rolled his eyes, blowing once more, and then prayed that his lips (and tongue, really) wouldn't be entirely burned off. All the same, it was with a steady hand that he raised the teacup to his mouth, sipping once - quickly. He raised an eyebrow, surprised, and then sipped again. Arthur grinned - smug and cocky as ever - and Yao couldn't give the slightest hint of retort because, well,

"It's... it's good," he admitted, wide-eyed and _quite_ surprised. He raised the cup to his lips, sipping once more, "Despite the fact that it's so concentrated, the heat really doesn't stay, does it, aru?"

"That's even the entire beauty of this process," Arthur replied with a wide smile, taking yet another self-satisfied sip from the teacup, "When it gets colder, the tea leaves will stay in the middle, continuing to keep the flavor, because the whole of the kettle is steamed up. Truly a brilliant method, I thought to myself then." And then he grinned, sincerely, adding, "That's the reason why I seeked you out; those other buggers can't possibly -"

"- Understand the perfection in a wonderfully-brewed cup of tea?" Yao finished for him, drinking once more.

"Yes," Arthur replied, voice a bit light, "Absolutely."

"Well then," Yao started, after the two of them had made good work of half the kettle, "Thank you so much for coming over, aru!" He smiled, winsomely, adding, "It's been a rather... stressful... week lately, and I just didn't have the time to enjoy tea in a while." He handed Arthur a couple packets of Tie Guan Yin - the Iron Goddess. "As a thank-you for your troubles," he explained - laughing outright at the sparkle such rare brands brought to Arthur's eyes.

And right as the packets were exchanged - by hands - Arthur took the moment to lightly grasp Yao's hand, much to the other's surprise. For a moment - ever so brief - Arthur knelt, skimming the edge of his mouth against the trembling knuckles of Yao's hand.

"The pleasure was all mine," is all Arthur says, before pocketing the bags of tea and striding out the door.

(Yao would roll his eyes, but his heart is too busy beating straight out of his chest.)

(...)


	5. that hapless debtor come casanova

(...)

x x x **C**_lose_ **R**_elations_ x x x

x..._five_...x

[that hapless debtor come casanova]

(...)

It was an absolutely brilliant, hatched only by the most brilliant of brilliant _heroes_. And sure, he got a little help from certain people (namely: Gilbert) and maybe, that nagging little voice in the back of his head (which sounded suspiciously like Arthur) was a little bit right in calling said plan 'the stupidest thing to have crossed your mind since the idea of a hamburger the size of TEXAS!' but Alfred was _very_ good at ignoring these little hints.

And anyways, the hamburger the size of Texas had been a _brilliant_ idea - in his mind, at least - until the President confirmed his sneaking suspicion (one that had crept up on him with dawning horror): there were _no_ hamburger bugs anywhere _near_ the size of Texas.

Getting back on topic, Alfred stood, looking as cool as cool could be - as the younger generation would say - right outside Yao's humble suite. The one where he, being the United States of America _and_ the owner of the UN building, had a cardkey to. "Oh wait!" he muttered to himself, flipping through the pages of 'How to Get Him Wrapped Around Your Finger In Five Easy Steps', "it says here that breaking and entering makes him feel like you're a stalker!" Alfred pondered over this new piece of information, "... I suppose looking like a stalker isn't really charming," he concluded with a sigh. And then he proceeded to knock the door.

Or - to be more precise - he _tried_ to knock the door, only to have Yao swing it open in his face.

"Yao!" he exuberated with a winsome smile ('Smile a lot!' the book had said, 'Guys always love smiles!'), "How are you doing today?"

"...Fine..." Yao replied, looking at Alfred oddly. "It's eight in the morning, aru, what are you doing here?" he asked - a perfectly legitimate question, of course - and one that Alfred had already supplied an answer for.

"Well," he chirpily started, making sure to smile again, "I woke up pretty early today and then I thought about my most favorite Asian nation of all!" He beamed at Yao, "That's you, of course," he added - for clarification - and continued with, "And so, I thought, what better way to relieve the stress of Russia almost frying all of your hair off, than to cook you a wonderfully _American_ breakfast!" Yao looked stupefied. "With fried eggs!" Alfred added, because _everyone_ loved fried eggs!

"...What?" Yao croaked out, most certainly _not_ ready for Alfred and his antics, regardless of the time of day, "What is with the world and thinking that I love my hair to bits and pieces, aru?" he twisted a finger around his neatly-done ponytail, protesting with, "I mean, I haven't cut it in a while, and this is certainly the first time in fifty years that it's been _burnt_, but that hardly means I'll have a breakdown because of a flamethrower, aru!"

"Right, right," Alfred soothed, ('Agree with him, it makes him much more willing to listen to you!' the guide-book had advised) "But that doesn't mean you can't be in the mood for a hearty breakfast, right?" He smiled another thousand-watt smile, eagerly showing off each of his perfectly-brushed teeth (all shiny beauties that looked _so_ much better than a certain Englishman's teeth!) to a... less than enthusiastic Yao. But the other's reaction hardly mattered, after all, persistence and personality was the key, the book had said.

And so - naturally - he would follow the book's instructions to the letter!

"Well, actually..." Yao started. And then he looked at Alfred's eager, insistent face, complete with an overly large smile. The other wasn't purposely trying to be cringe-worthy, and he _had_ eaten too much sugar to begin with. Maybe salt (and cholesterol and the subsequent heart attacks) was what he needed, after all. "Sure!" Yao replied, mimicking tone, "I would enjoy someone else cooking, actually!"

"Great!" Alfred cheered, trouncing into the other's suite, "I brought all the necessary ingredients too!" The manual had reminded him - on fourteen separate pages - that it was _tantamount_ to remember the ingredients. "I have eggs, and an egg beater, and some flour, and bacon - lots of bacon, you can have a couple slices of course, and then there's butter and milk and..." gracelessly, he wiped the line of drool from his mouth. "There's a lot of good stuff!" Alfred concluded.

"...Right," Yao said, as he stared on in abject horror. First Ivan, then Kiku, then Im-Yong Soo - and then _Arthur_ of all people! And in the short span of... barely twenty-four hours, he had lost seven hours of sleep, three hundred and fifty two Hello Kitty goods, and _much_ of his sanity. And now - Alfred, _Alfred_ of all people - was coming, and deciding that an American breakfast (read: shaken, scrambled, and then soaked in grease) was exactly what Yao's heart needed.

Really.

"Alfred..." Yao started, after the other nation had cheerily tied the apron on, proving once and for all that Alfred - much like Arthur - has little to no place in the kitchen, "Are you really supposed to set the flour right on top of the stove, aru?" The fact that said flour was smoking a little - already! - seemed to be no cause for alarm for Alfred.

"Oh yeah, this book here," and he whipped out an entirely inappropriate book - Yao managed to glance only the cover (a busty young girl and the words 'PLAYBOY'), "Oh whoops, that one's for later," Alfred promptly tucked said magazine back into his pocket, pulling out yet another manual, and tossing it at the relatively perturbed (read: absolutely scandalized) nation, "This one here says that you'll really like it if the pancakes are extra crunchy!"

"How to get him wrapped around your finger in five easy steps...?" Yao read aloud, horror dawning upon realization. "Alfred - do you have _any_ idea what this book is supposed to do, aru?"

"No _duh_," the other said, carelessly flipping a what was _once_ a strip of bacon right over the uncovered oven, "This is a guide that will show me how to solve all of my problems in one - well, actually, five - easy steps!" And then he tossed another grin - and a still-sloppy pancake - at Yao.

"What..." Yao caught the pancake, but refused to register the smile, "What do you mean solve all of your problems?" He flipped through the pages of manual, reading a couple select segments aloud, "Wake him up, make him an all-American breakfast... butter his toast, aru...?" there was a diagram included - one that most certainly did _not_ include any butter or toast, "Wh-Why are you reading these kinds of things?" he shrieked, face positively livid.

"Woah, easy, chill," Alfred replied - coolly blowing off the flames that were rising from his fifth - and thankfully, final - pancake, "I understand that we have had a good share of differences and conflicts, but that doesn't mean that our entire relationship has to go out the drain because of the little things!" Yao stared at him, and then pinched his own cheek.

"This has _got_ to be a nightmare. I am waking up - now - aru, and going to go see a good movie. Or concert. Or meeting!" he desperately tried, strangling the blasphemous piece of 'literature'. Alfred - of all people - rolled his eyes, mainly because the fifth pancake was simply _refusing_ to come off of the stove top, and the bacon, well, that was a little bit of a lost cause. At least the eggs he could count on!

And then the smoke alarm went off.

"This is all your fault, aru!" Yao raged minutes later, as the two of them worked at dousing off the minor flames. Needless to say, the kitchen fire was easily extinguished. As for the nice, wooden, kitchen table, well... Alfred could always ask the World Bank for another one of those, right? "Just wanted to cook breakfast! Wrapping around finger!" he angrily repeated, stomping out the miniature campfire that had been lit atop the fifth pancake, "There was more of a chance of my hair being burnt from _this_ encounter than - _blaaieiih_!"

The reason for Yao's sudden strange came from, of course, Alfred swiftly dumping the fully-filled (but cold, thankfully) teapot over the other's head.

Thoroughly soaked, and more riled up than ever, Yao ground out, "What. Was. That. For. Aru."

"There was..." Alfred started. And then bit his tongue. And then giggled a bit. Yao promptly kicked the other in the shins because he was now soaking wet and smelling of Earl Grey and to _hell_ with UN regulations of not attacking member states and whatnot! "There was a little bit of fire in your hair..." Alfred confessed, looking guiltily at the ground. Yao, in response, ground his teeth, counting from one to ten, and then ten to one, in his head.

Breath in, Breath out. Remember, Alfred - the United States - is a _very_ important trading partner, and your president would _not_ like it if two thirds of your exports were made useless because of a silly little breakfast. Right.

"It's fine..." Yao sighed. Alfred laughed nervously, because the other was still making strangling motions with his hands. "Now will you leave?" he tried.

"Are you wrapped around my finger yet?" Alfred had the gall to ask. Yao promptly kicked him - again. "Ow!" Alfred cried, "I already said I was sorry! Look - look! He pointed wildly at the kitchen, desperate to relieve himself of Yao's glaring golden eyes. His index finger landed upon the eggs - the one thing that wasn't burnt to a black crisp, "The eggs!" he cried out, triumphantly, "They're still totally okay!"

"...So they are," Yao agreed, before training his critical gaze on Alfred once more, "Look, aru," he said, "I'm soaked to the skin and it's a little cold, so will you _please_ tell me the real reason why you - or why Arthur and Ivan, really - came here in the first place?" He put his hands on his hips, and despite the drowned-rat look, Alfred still felt a bit intimidated. Must be the angry-Asian glare.

"Well, the thing is..." Alfred awkwardly scratched his head, "I really like the eggs though!" he cheerily brought up, swerving the conversation entirely. "Here, I'll go get you a couple of towels, and then you can eat the eggs, right? I mean, you're not vegetarian or anything, right?"

"I thought you were," Yao dourly replied, flicking a wet strand of hair from his eyes. Some of the tea landed on Alfred's face; he wrinkled his nose.

"I was!" Alfred replied with a laugh, "But I couldn't stop myself from eating hamburgers and did you know - they made a whole new menu set at the BK! Just for people like me, who don't need to sleep from 12 AM to 4 AM!" Yao stared at him, utterly nonplussed. Alfred laughed nervously, again, "I'll be getting the towels now," he nodded, before going off in the direction of said towels. Yao sighed, wondering why-why-_why_ he chose to put up with these people - with these _problems_ - and how he would survive the final day of the UN session.

"So troublesome..." he muttered, setting out the plates, forks, and knives. He had to remember to get Alfred to clean up the explosion of flour (and charred remains of bacon) in the kitchen. If either of them survived eating the eggs, of course.

"Here!" Alfred declared proudly, "Towels!" And he threw three haphazardly around Yao, and then wrapped one around his own shoulders. "Man, even though some of the pancakes turned out a little messy, I'm pretty sure my eggs are really good!" he insisted. Yao rolled his eyes, before dividing the scrambled eggs into two portions. "Bon Appetit!" Alfred had to add, and Yao knew - intrinsically - that his doom was imminent.

"It's..." his eyes widened, and then he took another bite, and another bite. "It's actually pretty - " _good_ he would have said, except then he heard a sickening _crunch_ come from his scrambled egg. Staring in abject horror from said breakfast dish to Alfred - who was crunching on his own scrambled eggs at the moment - Yao really did not want to know. "Why is it crunchy aru?" he asked.

"Because the manual said that guys like protein in their meals and _I_ like protein in my meal. So I added eggshells into the mix!" Alfred immediately replied. Yao sat - and stated - as the other crunched on his scrambled eggs. Crunched. On. His. Scrambled. Eggs.

"Aaaagh," Yao moaned, burrowing his face in his hands and his hands in the second layer of towels, "Can you please tell me what you're here for so I can tell you no and then I can get out of these wet clothes and take a _shower_, aru?" he pleaded with Alfred, as the other looked - almost - deflated, for a second. And then Alfred reached over - closer, closer, closer, and took a wet strand of hair. One that was hanging outside of Yao's now-soaked ponytail.

"What are you doing?" Yao asked, definitely - absolutely - not wanting to know the answer.

"I'm curling your hair around my finger," Alfred readily replied, doing just so. "Cutely," he added, "Because the manual said that guys like it. Well, it's supposed to be _my_ hair, actually. But my hair's not long enough, and your's is, and I figured if you liked it, you would help fund, oh, _all_ of the construction for the new UN meeting room? I _am_ running on quite the deficit, right?" And here, he grinned, and Yao stared on in something like horror. And disbelief, definitely belief. So _that_ was the reason why Alfred flounced all the way over here, to set off a smoke alarm and nearly kill Yao from food poisoning?

"Please remove your fingers from my hair," Yao ground out. Alfred pouted a bit, but did as told. Yao sighed, heavily, knowing that he would regret his next promise, but ah, what were allied for? Grudgingly, he put out, "I'll help pay for _half_ of the meeting room - no more, aru!" And then he crossed his arms, albeit mainly to fasten the towel more securely about his shoulders.

"Woo-hoo!" Alfred cheered, "See?" he insisted, smiling all the while, much to Yao's chagrin, "That manual _did_ work! Here," and he tossed the Playboy magazine at Yao, "It's one of the rarer editions, signed by the Man himself!"

Yao promptly tossed said magazine into the trash bin.

"Aww!" Alfred mock-cried, as he took his leave - subsequently leaving the reminders of his cooking disasters in Yao's kitchen, "You're just jealous that she's got better legs than you do!"

"I'm not even going to justify that with a reply, aru," Yao flatly said, slamming the door on the self-proclaimed hero. "How to get him wrapped around your finger in five easy steps aru," he mused aloud, taking said manual out from one of _his_ own pockets. Remarkably, it was _not_ soaking wet. And then he shrugged, pocketing it once more, "Could be interesting, I suppose..."

(...)


	6. those two too mature children

(...)

x x x **C**_lose_ **R**_elations_ x x x

x..._six_...x

[those two too mature children]

(...)

Yao stepped out of the scalding shower, draped only in the thickest, fluffiest towel that threats-on-Alfred could buy, and feeling remarkably better about the day. Sure, it was a little past noon, and he would have liked to be sleeping right now (what with _no meeting room_ and all), but at least Alfred knew that Yao was better off not awakened before the rising of the sun. And, as a plus, he no longer smelled suspiciously like Earl Grey!

Then Yao rolled his eyes; it was really amazing how far his standards had dropped.

He turned the doorknob to the frontroom of the suite, only to discover -

"_Gege_!" Taiwan called from the couch, sitting across from Hong Kong, who raised an eyebrow - most likely in amusement - at Yao's current state of dress. Taiwan noticed this too, and then wrinkled her brow, remarking, "What are you doing dressed like that?" She glanced quickly towards the clock, "Don't you know your flight leaves in less than an hour, and you've still got to pack!"

"Oh God - the _plane_!" Yao gasped, clasping a hand over his mouth in horror, "I have to pack! I have to get all my clothing ready! I have to confirm my flight number and seat change request! And _your_ tickets!" 'I have to get those horrible magazines that Alfred ever-so-helpfully-left-here out of the house before Taiwan and Hong Kong catch sight of them!' he thought inwardly.

"You also have to get dressed," Hong Kong noted, raising an eyebrow. Yao flushed - feeling particularly out of sorts - before nodding and hurrying back to his own room. The violent tumble of drawers and suits could be heard; Hong Kong hid a smile, while Taiwan outrightedly laughed.

"How long do you think we should wait?" Taiwan cheerily asked her fellow nation. Hong Kong - who was busy haphazardly rummaging through the cabinet drawers, pulled out an appropriately-sweet stick of candy, sticking it in his mouth. "You look like a _cow_," Taiwan snickered, before clearing her throat. "But anyways - how long should we wait before he go in?"

"Let's give Yao -_ge_..." Hong Kong looked at the clock, still crunching down on the candy stick, "Twenty seconds."

Taiwan pouted, "You're too nice, _Xiang_," she complained, "Even I can get dressed in twenty seconds!" And then when the other island shot a glance at her, she grumbled back, "Okay, okay, so maybe _Gege_ dresses slower than I do..."

"Mmm," Hong Kong replied, noncommitally. The candy stick was on its last few inches, Taiwan noted. Hong Kong didn't even hesitate in crunching the rest of the candy stick. And then he glanced at the clock once more, noting, "Only a couple more seconds... five... four... three... two..."

"Done!" Yao proudly exclaimed, slamming open the bedroom door - and comically hitting Hong Kong in the face with a flamboyant swing of his hand, "Oh God! _Xiang Gang_!" he cried out, as the other sat on the floor, rubbing his nose and looking as if nothing at all had occurred. "Are you okay?" Needless to say, Taiwan and Hong Kong were disappointed after seeing the other entirely clothed - and even with his ponytail done properly!

"He's just... _disappointed_... _Gege_," Taiwan sweetly said, helping her sibling to his feet, helping to dust off imaginary specks of dirt all the while muttering (in a level that was hopefully too low for Yao to catch), "See what I said?"

"What did you say, aru?" Yao asked, curious as ever.

"Oh nothing!" Taiwan replied, smiling sunnily at her elder, "I was just thinking that you don't need to pack too much, right? I mean, _Nii-san_ is coming over to the United States shortly, and he can bring whatever else you need from this apartment, right?" Hong Kong rolled his eyes, while Yao beamed, because any opportunity to pack and carry less was a _good_ opportunity indeed!

"Of course! That's such an easier way to go about things, aru~" Yao cheerily put forth, "However, I still need to pack a couple of things and then run down to the airport!" He glanced at Hong Kong and Taiwan, "Will the two of you be coming with me back to Asia?" he asked. Hong Kong shook his head, while Taiwan sheepishly smiled. "That's too bad," Yao said, "But I'm glad you're here right now," he added, "I could use the help, you see?"

And with that, the other left for his room once more, opening drawers and closet doors in an attempt to find all the money, candy, and Kitty-chan merchandise which he had stored away in the recesses of the suite. Taiwan and Hong Kong, of course, like the good children they were, reconvened to plot once more.

"He's not onto us, is he?" Taiwan hissed.

"Yao-_ge_ isn't the type of suspect anything," Hong Kong blithely replied.

"What do we do now?" She whispered. After all, there weren't that many opportunities to catch Yao outside of the UN and China - all by himself - and on a non-Lunar New Year day as well!

"We'll proceed as planned," Hong Kong smoothly said, as Yao dashed back into the room, grabbing the larger portion of the candy from the cupboard (but not before exclaiming, 'Hey! Alfred took my last magical rainbow sugar stick!') and rushing back into his room and half-packed suitcase. "It's not as if there's anything going particularly wrong right now." He said this while some tell-tale bits of the candy stick lined his mouth. They were red and green.

"Okay," Taiwan agreed, "The dressing room was just a bonus, I suppose," she murmured, grabbing a nearby napkin to brush off said bits of candy from Hong Kong's mouth. "As soon as he finishes packing, then?"

"Sure," Hong Kong replied, licking his lips to get any leftover taste of that magical rainbow sugar stick.

"Finally~" Yao called out, dragging out a lumpy suitcase. Why it was lumpy, Taiwas was pretty certain she did not want to know. "I could barely fit all of the plushies and candy _and_ clothes!" Yao grumbled, "So I decided to just leave most of the clothing behind, and just make away with the candy and stuffed animals~" And then he directed his attention towards Hong Kong, who was currently rifling through the contents of the nearby desk drawer. "_Xiang Gang,_" he started, "What are you doing, aru?"

"Yao-_ge_," Hong Kong remarked, raising an eyebrow while pulling a certain something out of the desk drawers. Yao blanched - because wasn't that...? "I didn't know you read this sort of thing..." the other managed to say in complete and utter monotone, flipping boorishly through the pages of utterly indecent (not even _half_-naked!) women. "Kiku-_nii_ has a lot more of this sort of stuff," he continues, bringing Yao closer to cardiac arrest, "And it's much better too."

"_Xiang_!" Taiwan screeched out - snatching said magazine from her sibling's hands (before Yao can), "What are you doing with something like that? And how can you say that you've ever seen anything from _Nii-san_?" she put her hands on her hips, scowling, and Yao was very proud of her until the next words left her mouth, "You know that _gege_ isn't prepared to see this stuff right now!"

Yao felt his jaw drop.

"Wh-what do you mean, aru?" he said in an absolutely scandalized manner, "If there's anything that Kiku made that you two can watch, surely I can see it too, aru!" The fact that Kiku - prim, proper (and somewhat obsessed with _anime_) Kiku - was the creator was somewhat reassuring. And _him_ making something worse than _Alfred_? Yao scoffed, mentally - _impossible_!

In response, Hong Kong cocked an eyebrow at Taiwan, who winced. And then she shrugged, and Hong Kong nodded - leaving Yao utterly bemused with the exchanging of glances. "Well, the thing is, _gege_..." Taiwan muttered out, face a bit redder than it should have been, "We... well..." She cleared her throat, while her sibling elbowed her to continue forth, "We don't really think this stuff is... well... _appropriate_ for you, _gege_."

"Appropriate...?" Yao echoed, "I'm _older_ than you two, aru!" he protested, feeling a bit like a parent with a teenage, "If you're able to watch it, then I should be just as able!"

"Well," Taiwan shot a glance at Hong Kong, who merely smiled. She sighed, "Well, if he says he's able to..." Hong Kong carelessly tossed her a packet of DVD's. All of which were Japanese. And none of which had any decorated titles. "Hmmm..." she wondered aloud, as Hong Kong motioned for Yao to sit on the couch as well. "Which one of these shall we watch?" A quick glance at the clock removed all but two of the programs, "Well, we have Princess of the Orient and Escape from Planet T." She held up both nondescript disks at the two of them.

"Princess of the Orient sounds better for someone like Yao-_ge_," Hong Kong remarked. "Escape from Planet T is a bit too wild."

"Wh-what is this about, aru?" Yao asked, laughing nervously, "This can't be too long of a film, right? I do have a flight in half an hour, you know?" Hong Kong blinked, saying nothing, while Taiwan expertly turned on the various systems required to enjoy a good movie.

"You're not going to... _leave_... are you, Yao-_ge_?" Hong Kong asked - in an entirely innocent fashion. "Feel free to," he added, sweetly, "Because Taiwan and I often watch this stuff, but as she's said, it may not be appropriate for you." Taiwan bit the inside of her cheek to stifle the riotous laughter she just knew was coming. How did her sibling turn out to be such an amazing liar?

"O-Of course not!" Yao stuttered out, gripping tightly onto the nearby fabric - which just happened to be Taiwan's arm, "Th-this isn't horror, right?"

"Nope!" Taiwan cheerily replied. "But it's a bit like... _history_, shall we say?" And here, it was Hong Kong who snorted in laughter. "Shhh!" she hushed her quieter sibling, "The presentation is about to begin!" Somehow or another, Yao found himself wedged between Taiwan and Hong Kong, both of whom were holding his hands. It was a nice feeling, he thought off-handedly, and they should have more family bonding moments like this.

And then the film started. And his widened, because wasn't this setting a little bit familiar? "It's a duplicate of the Imperial Palace," Taiwan murmured, answering his unsaid question while snuggling close. And it _was_ a masterful copy, Yao thought, taking in the curves and seals - all of which had been duplicated rather splendidly. And the robes! And the hair-pieces! And the instruments in the background. And so, it continued throughout the whole of the film; in some desperately homesick manner, Yao managed to train his eyes on the architecture, on the clothing, on the design and detail of the video - forgetting altogether that there _were_ people and they _were_ getting undressed.

Twenty-six minutes - filled with beautiful intricacies of the imperial seal and imperial dragon and imperial robe - later, and Yao blinked, because the film was supposedly over. "...What about the plot?" he asked, blithely. "Oh..." he murmured, as a terribly-red Taiwan swerved her head to look at a not-at-all embarrassed Yao. "I-I'm so sorry!" he muttered out, embarrassed, "I was so concentrated on the architectural details that I..."

"Completely ignored the rest of the film," Hong Kong flatly finished.

"Oh God...!" Taiwan groaned, flopping herself on the opposite side of the couch. "How did such an intensively thought-out plan go wrong?" she muttered, rubbing her temples and hoping the blush on her face would quickly reside.

"I'm so sorry, aru!" Yao apologized, profusely. "I think I just..." he started, only to look at the clock in abject horror. There was barely a half-hour before the lift-off of the flight.

"I think I need to get to the airport, aru!" And with that, he grabbed his suitcase, and dashed out the door, calling out, "I'm so sorry, aru! I'll make it up to the two of you - we, we, we can watch that movie, later - again, at my house, okay?" He rushed back to give each of them of a hug, before kissing their foreheads and pressing the suite key into Taiwan's hands. "See you in a couple days, aru!" And with a wave and high-pitched 'aiieh!' (most likely caused by the elevator doors), Yao was off the floor and on his way to desperately make his way on the airplane.

Taiwan and Hong Kong sat - on the couch - with a Yao-sized space between them.

"How..." Taiwan rasped out, fists clenching and unclenching, "_How_... did _Gege_ manage to only see the architecture and _clothing_ in that movie?" She ground her teeth together, kicking the foot-table in frustration, "He's just...!" she cried out, "It's just impossible to make him see certain things! I swear that he's purposely doing all this, just to try and get us upset!" She pouted, scoffing and raging over her own implausible theories.

"You know," Hong Kong remarked, not terribly ruffled in the least, "The book Alfred gave Yao isn't that bad in the least."

And with that, Taiwan justified kicking her sibling in the shins.

It was marginally better than kicking the foot-table, because while neither actually _responded_, at least Hong Kong wasn't made of oak.

(...)


	7. the two beer connoisseurs

(...)

x x x **C**_lose_ **R**_elations_ x x x

x..._seven_...x

[the two beer connoisseurs]

(...)

"Do I really have to?" Gilbert whined. Loudly. Because he could, of course. Ludwig - being the _younger_ (and infinitely more mature) sibling, rolled his eyes, before nodding. "But it's a Wednesday!" Gilbert grumbled, "And Wednesdays mean that the pub on Fifth Street is open, and they serve Krombacher, West! _Krombacher!_!" he threw his hands up in the air, knowing that the two of them shared a favorite beer.

Ludwig, in response, simply steadfastedly ignored his brother, pushing him forth. Gilbert grumbled something about overly-excited siblings who were 'waayyy too into diplomacy to actually be really awesome,' or another, before grudgingly ringing the doorbell. Thrice.

"That's enough," Ludwig called out, after Gilbert had pressed said button about fifteen times. "All the people in the house will probably be deaf by now," he muttered, as Gilbert crossed his arms, muttering complaints under his breath. Within a matter of seconds, a terribly disoriented maid came to open the door. Ludwig - fluent in Mandarin, of course - gently pushed his brother inside, smiling at the maid and handing her a fifty-yuan note.

"Did you see that?" Gilbert crowed, "She looked at you like you were _God_ or something!" More snickers, as Ludwig fought back the urge to elbow his ever-so-mature brother. "I still don't understand why we're in China in the first place! We could be in the Mathuraust! Or even the Natürlach!" Gilbert complained, listing off the names of a couple lesser-known bars, "But nooo..." he hissed, as Ludwig rapped firmly against the wooden doors, "Instead, we're in Beijing! In the summer! For no apparent freakin' reason either!"

Gilbert didn't know what made him stick with his silly little brother like this, but whatever it was - it sure wasn't paying him enough.

"Quiet," Ludwig said - serious face in position. Gilbert bit back a snicker, which was rather mature of him, really.

"Ludwig, aru...?" Yao asked, raising an eyebrow in complete surprise. And then he saw the less-than-delighted Gilbert. "And Gilbert as well?" He opened the door to the spacious, half-decorated room for the two brothers, beckoning them inside. "Well, aru," he started, "It's so nice to see the two of you... in China." He stared at them, bemused, before continuing, "But I must ask, what brings you here? Business?"

"Business - hah!" Gilbert scoffed, obviously still thinking about the Krombacher. Ludwig elbowed his brother.

"We came because we heard..." Ludwig started, clearing his throat.

"From Kiku, who said that he heard from Arthur who heard from Alfred who actually is on speaking terms with that bastard Ivan," Gilbert moodily filled in.

"...Right," Ludwig said, shooting an accusing glance at his brother before continuing, "We heard from these sources that your, ah, hair had been damaged by my brother's flamethrower?" He raised an eyebrow, giving Yao a once-over.

"Ah, that," Yao pursed his lips, "But it's really no matter, aru!" he laughed, "I mean, Gilbert wasn't even the one who was using the flamethrower - it was Ivan, wasn't it? And anyways," he trailed off, "Kiku has already cut my hair so that the singed bits have been completely unattached, so it's alright, aru!" He laughed, loosely pulling his ponytail for the two nations to see. "See? It's absolutely..."

"Still looks singed to me," Gilbert blandly pointed out.

"Oh that..." Yao furrowed his brow, "That was probably from when Alfred was trying to make a breakfast in my kitchen, aru!" He laughed - again - though Ludwig could not help but notice that Yao was _still_ looking at the crispier ends of his hair, "But all the same, my hair has suffered no damage, and it wasn't even your fault, aru! So there's no need to apologize; everything's alright!" He said this all while still staring at his hair.

"Whelp, West, there you have it from the man himself!" Gilbert cheered, throwing his hands up in the air, "And now, we can get back to Natürlach - or even Dathhaust, if you want - because there's a tank of Krombacher with our names on it!"

"Gilbert," Ludwig said, in that trade-marked 'stern' manner. Gilbert rolled his eyes, sensing yet another hurdle between him and that beautiful, sparkling barrel of Krombacher. "Yao," he started, looking - at loss - at the nation who was still staring vacantly at the dry-and-curled bits of hair. "Is there anything that we can do?" it was the polite thing to say, of course. And it was also the kind of thing that would take Ludwig - and therefore, Gilbert - farther from the jugs of Krombacher.

"No, no, no," Yao said with a smile, finally looking up from his less-than-perfect strands of hair, "It's alright, aru! As Gilbert said, there's a tank of Klombasch with your name on it!"

"Oh God," Gilbert clasped a hand over his mouth in horror, "You... you're really not well, are you Yao?" With crisp strides, he walked over to the other, carefully placing the back of his hand against the other's forehead. "Hm," he muttered, raising an eyebrow, "You don't _seem_ to have a fever," he noted, before turning to his brother, "But there _must_ be something wrong with him, right West? I mean, he didn't know _Krombacher_." The weight which Gilbert's tone belied was terrifying in itself.

"That's silly!" Yao started out, "I-I'm just not very used to German, aru!" He looked at Ludwig for some sane support.

"That is correct," Ludwig pronounced, before continuing with, "I cannot fathom how anyone in their right mind would not know how to pronounce - much less not know the name of - a wonderful beer like Krombacher." Gilbert snickered - he had gotten his brother hooked now! - as Ludwig blithely plodded forth, "Clearly, you have been affected by my brother's flamethrower in more ways than the mere toasting of your hair."

"Wha-?" Yao, of course, was entirely lost.

"What do you recommend, West?" Gilbert asked with an entirely-straight face. "This is an absolutely critical condition - forgetting the name of a... of a 'wonderful beer'!" he continued, quoting his brother's words, "We cannot possibly allow our fellow nation to continue forth like this!"

"Huh?"

"You are absolutely right," Ludwig responded in the affirmative, much to Gilbert's delight, "We must administer some sort of treatment. What do the manuals say for burns?" And with that, Gilbert flipped open his (hastily-penned) fourth manual, titled "The Worst-Case Survival Guide for Men". With each flip of the page, Yao's eyes grew larger, unable to believe that _Ludwig_ was actually planning on curing him of ailments he did _not_ have.

"Ah hah!" Gilbert triumphant cried, pointing at a random page - 247, we'll say - and reading aloud off the top of his mind, "For second-degree burns from a flamethrower, make sure to douse the victim in beer." He grinned, and then 'read' the 'fine print' of the book, "On the rocks, too!" he chirpily added. Yao felt a large portion of blood drain from his face - not just because of the outright heresy Gilbert was reading, but because of Ludwig's more-than-believing response.

"Ah, yes," the other brother replied, "I seem to remember reading something about dousing in ice and beer." He nodded, flipping out his smartphone to check for the nearest breweries in Beijing, "A most effective method, of course."

"Of - Of course...!" Gilbert managed to choke out.

"Aah...?" There were many situations, particularly in these past three days, that made Yao wonder, seriously, if he had been living some weird version of reality. However, this combination was _surely_ the highest up on the 'I am dreaming right now, aru?' chart. And the fact that there _was_ a chart was even more terrifying. Ludwig, naturally, ignored Yao's nervous glance (and sound), as well as Gilbert's choked laugh, as he was too busy seriously searching for breweries.

Now or never, Yao thought.

"Oh my God!" he gasped out, dropping his jaw in abject horror and pointing out the window with a vigor he did not know he possessed, "Is that a_ giant sausage _falling over the Prime Minister's Building?"

"A giant sausage?"

"Where?"

"Over there!" Yao wildly pointed, "And look - it's a little bit a steaming on the inside, aru!"

In the blink of an eye, both the manual and the smart phone were forgotten by the German brothers, as they simply dropped everything and ran for the possibility of a sausage so huge it would be able to easily crush a building in the Chinese governmental offices. With an equal amount of speed, Yao dashed to the door, lightly tossing out the fallen items, and then following through the entirety of his (well-thought-out!) plan of getting out and away without having to drown himself in beer. With a rather... victorious... smile, he wickedly locked the door behind the two brothers, glad to have had _that_ problem out of the way.

"Now!" he declared, wiping away a bit of sweat from his brow (he wasn't one for impromptu acting, really) and placing his hands on his hips, "Where should I put these banners and posters, aru?" And with that, Yao worked, taping and gluing and arranging seats and cushions and nametags - all for the optimal amount of enjoyment, entertainment, and freedom, of course. Off-handedly, he thought it strange how neither Ludwig nor Gilbert seemed to be disappointed that there had been no giant sausage... or how neither of them had returned to retrieve either manual or smartphone. Then he shrugged it off as sibling idiosyncrasies.

Even better - perhaps they realized that the flamethrower had really, honestly, done no harm, and decided to return to Germany!

(Although the burnt ends of his hair - courtesy of _Alfred_ who still owed him two thousand yuan as an individual - were still bothering him...)

"Yao?" Ludwig rapped - politely, as per usual - on the door, about two hours later. "Yao? We're truly apologetic for having rushed out like that," he paused to burp behind his hand, "And we hope that you'll forgive us by letting us help you in decorate the room, as we have noticed you are currently doing."

"Screw that!" Gilbert called out, though it was muffled from the food in his mouth, "I'll gladly decorate the _whole_ room, that sausage was _amazing_!" He belched. Loudly.

"Wh-What?" Yao spluttered, jumping off of the table that he had been standing on. He ran to open the door, only to be greeted by the two brothers... along with four plates - each - filled to the brim with _sausage_. "Wh-what?" he repeated, again. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and then blinked once more, refusing to believe the huge slices of sausage that laid before his eyes.

"Yeah, there _was_ a huge sausage that managed to topple off of the bus and into a couple buildings, though it wasn't the Prime Minister's," Gilbert supplied - all while snarfing down half a plate filled with sausage, "So then me and West came over to survey the damage, and the owner of the sausage was so scared of the police that he let us eat for _free_!" And here, he whooped - or attempted to, as it was rather hard to emit any noise at all with a mouth full of meat.

"It was most kind of him," Ludwig added, chewing off a chunk of _his_ platter of sausage.

Yao's jaw dropped lower than he had thought possible. "Wh-Wuh... What, aru?" he exclaimed, again, refusing to believe that today - just now! - a sausage-carrying van had crashed nearby. "And... and did the two of you manage to finish the sausage, aru?"

"Well we would've," Gilbert said in-between bites, "But then there were these little kids - damn! I hate little kids!" he grumbled, "Who were looking like they were really hungry, and so West," he jabbed an accusing finger at his brother here, "Decided that it would be perfectly alright if we split the sausage, so that the little kids could have a couple pieces as well." He rolled his eyes, tearing off another chunk of sausage. "Hey, do you want a slice?" he offered off-handedly to Yao.

"S-sure..." Yao hesitantly replied, eyeing the preserved meats with entirely-reasonable doubt.

"Open wide," Gilbert said with a grin, dangling the meat before Yao.

"Gilbert," Ludwig muttered, "How entirely unsanitary," he set down his own plates of sausage on the (newly-cleaned) table in the room, reaching for a fork and knife to cut a piece of a piece of the sausage. "Here," he handed the slab of meat to Yao, "It's actually reminiscent of Fetzer's, don't you think?"

Yao had no idea what Fetzer's was - much less what 'Krombacher' was. Ignoring the fact that Ludwig had just bitten off a chunk from the sausage piece he had cut for the other nation, Yao closed his eyes, hesitantly taking a bite.

"Well?" Gilbert asked, an entirely-too-smug grin in place. "Are you feeling less traumatized by my entirely awesome flamethrower?" And here, he leaned in closer to Yao, dangling some bit of sausage once more - as if enticing the other to take yet another bite - while whispering, "Just tell West that you're totally recovered so he won't take away my flamethrower, okay?" And then, before Yao could protest - or even acquiesce - he shoved the ambrosial (for him, at least!) food down the other's throat.

"Mmph dtydlly gurred!" Yao mumbled out, taking a sip of the already-placed water, before downing the sausages entirely, much to the amusement of the brothers, "I said," he grumbled out, feeling that he had been sampling too many new - and entirely surprising - things in the past days, "That I'm completely cured! Ah~" he sighed out, basking in the rays of an invisible light, "The wonder and glory that is _Krombacher_, oh, is there any better wine?"

And with that, Ludwig dropped his final plate of sausages. Gilbert, in response, didn't even look at the fallen meat, simply dropped his jaw in unison.

Yao laughed nervously, "Wine, Beer, Vodka... it's all the same, isn't it, aru?" A quick glance around told him that no, to those two, it was _not_ the same thing. And all the same, he tried to save himself - digging his own grave deeper, really, by tacking on, in his own defense, "But they're all just alcoholic beverages, aru! I mean, there aren't vast difference, right?"

"Yao," Ludwig said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I sincerely hope this is simply an after-effect of my brother's flamethrower..."

"Hey!" Gilbert cried out, "I've tried the flamethrower on _plenty_ of other people - Ivan and Alfred, for one - and it's _never_ caused them to forget all of our teachings about beer!"

Yao groaned, sensing that the room would remain undecorated for quite some time to come.

(...)

did you know? Germany and China are actually _really good_ trading partners - in terms of imports and exports. The ratio between them is a whole lot better than the US/China trading balances, although that's not saying much. D: Also, Prussia was too much win to _not_ write (I have no idea why I don't have more Prussia!fic...); as yugiL put it, it _was_ his flamethrower after all!

and also: Beijing _does_ have a giant sausage manufacturer (maybe multiple?). I was so surprised when I went there, I was wondering why there were _so many_ pig carcasses. They transport them on bread-buses (they're minivans, I think?) and parts of the sausage (wrapped in plastic) stick out. This chapter was inspired by the thought, 'what would happen if the bus carrying the sausage overturned or something?'


	8. that blast of a party

note: In my defense, it's still July 1st where I'm living! So please pretend it's July 1st, 2010, because that's really important for the continuity of the story. D: Also - this somehow turned into a happy-birthday-fic. All your fault, Victoria Wan. JK~

necessary notations: The Benz SLS AMG can hit 200 MPH. The distance from Beijing to Rome is approximately 5000 miles. 25 hours, ish, if you're a total speed demon. Plus - with the time zones and whatnot, it's actually entirely possible - or, can you all just suspend your disbelief for a second, pretty please?

(...)

x x x **C**_lose_ **R**_elations_ x x x

x..._eight_...x

[that blast of a party]

(...)

June 31st, approx. 12:00 (noon)

"Ve~?" Feliciano called, "Who i~is it?" he sang, unlocking all fifteen bolts (courtesy of Romano - but of course) before opening said door. "Ludwig!" he joyously exclaimed, throwing his arms around the other nation. "Did you bring me some pasta?" he excitedly asked? "I'm just eating lunch right now! And since Romano's gone, I figured he wouldn't mind if I took a couple of his tomatoes, right?"

"...Sure..." Ludwig mumbled, as the car outside honked. A distinct 'Yo West! I'm not getting any younger over here!' could be heard. Feliciano peeked over Ludwig's shoulder, curious.

"Ludwig, why is Gilbert over here, ve~?"

"Because your older brother isn't here, so he figured he could 'check out' the latest variety of cars your brother has been making," Ludwig flatly responded. Feliciano gave a happy 'oh~' before hugging releasing Ludwig from the three-minute-long hug. "A-Anyways," Ludwig stumbled, "Since you seem to have nothing, well, pressing today, I was wondering if you'd... well, if you had the time, would you mind coming with me - and my brother, of course - to the... well, to the celebration they're throwing at Yao's house?"

"Will there be... _Chinese food_?" Was all that Feliciano needed to know.

Ludwig actually chuckled, "Yes, of course, it's in Beijing, after all."

"Of course!" Feliciano delightfully replied, throwing his arms around Ludwig once more. "I love the duck there; it goes so~o~o well with the pasta over there! And they have spicy sauces! _Spicy_ sauces!" The italian repeated, grabbing a vase and a bowl "Housewarming gifts, ve~?" he explained, as Ludwig stoically nodded, helping carry the bowl, "I'm so happy~" Feliciano sang, "Ludwig is taking me out to dinner!"

"Woah!" Gilbert exclaimed, as the two of them neared the car. "It that one huge vase, or is that one _huge_ vase?" He grinned, thwacking Feliciano playfully on the back.

Between Gilbert (who was a recklessly fast driver and _enjoyed_ plowing into mobs, down staircases, and through elevators - all while _laughing maniacally_) and Feliciano (who was just as bad - if not worse - than Gilbert because of his lack of care at the steering wheel, and the fact that all of his steering wheels were more pasta-sauce than actual wheel), Ludwig felt that it was a good idea for him to drive. The problem here was that Ludwig assumed that Gilbert would come to this same conclusion, and thereby let him take the wheel.

Gilbert, of course, did not use the same kind of logic. "Hell, no!" he declared, "Why don't you get all lovey-dovey with Italian in the backseat - _I'll_ drive this time!" And Ludwig would have put up a more... extensive... complaint, had Feliciano not held onto his _hand_ and chanted 'lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey!' in a manner that _should_ have been outlawed in the Italian province era. Seriously.

"Bruder," Ludwig started - cautiously, of course, as Gilbert was currently turning the key and starting up the engine, "Do you know where the airport is?"

"Airport?" Gilbert repeated, as Ludwig watched - with dawning horror - as his dear-and-favorite Benz hit new (and terrifying) zero-to-x records. "Who said anything about going to the _airport_?" he shouted to the backseats, "We've got twenty-seven _hours_," now this was _definitely_ figure Gilbert pulled out of the top of his head, "To get to China. We're so hitting the high road, kids!"

The Benz was _supposed_ to have a cap at 197 miles per hour, Ludwig thought, somewhere during the night, when his throat was hoarse from the screaming.

(...)

July 1st

It was a relatively chilly day in Moscow, despite the fact that it was warm and sunny in nearly every other country Ivan had been to, and he awoke to the icicle-knockers doing what they did best: knocking icicles from the roofs of the buildings, so that said icicles wouldn't kill people. Ivan merrily hummed one tune or another, as the weather was _only_ 15 degrees centigrade. Hm. Must've been colder in the evening, he thought - a typical occurrence, really.

"What shall I do today?" he asked aloud, after he had dressed and eaten breakfast (borscht - which, unlike what Katya had said - _could_ and _should_ be eaten as - and for - every single meal!) and was now aimlessly wandering the hallways. He passed by the mailman, who nearly choked on himself, most likely because he had _almost_ stepped on Ivan's toes.

"Ah!" Ivan said with a bright smile, "Perhaps I can watch more of the Minister's videos," he turned to look at said mailman, "You _do_ honor and serve our Prime Minister, da?" The mailman nodded, vehemently, as his eyes refused to move off the bloodstains of Ivan's pipe. Ivan laughed, patting the man on the back, "Good man, good man!" he said, patting a bit too roughly, "You do your nation proud!"

"Y-y-yes...!" the mailman stuttered out, though this was most certainly not because of the cold (Ivan had, after all, helped carry in bucket after bucket of coal and wood for the furnaces). "A-And..." the mailman fished through his bag, "This is a letter for you!" with trembling hands, he passed a red-papered letter, embossed in gold, to the nation. Ivan's eyes widened - could it be? - before taking the letter, thanking the mailman before hurrying off to his own quarters. It was still rare for him to get letters, particularly those from speed-delivery!

(...)

"Kiku! Kiku!" Im-Yong Soo joyously cried - through the halls of the building at five AM, "Kiku, did you get your letter from Yao-_hyung_? Did you, didyou, didyou?" with a cheerful grin and an all-too-capable hand, he (forcefully) unlocked the door and turned on the lights in the room.

"Wha? Letter?" Kiku managed to mumble out, before Im-Yong Soo grabbed the sheets on the bed, forcefully causing the other to roll out. "Im-Yong Soo..." Kiku muttered, still feeling sleepy from having editted some hundred and fifty pictures of Yao in various cosplaying conditions. They ranged from Miku to Rin to Sakura to Victorian Lolita to Alice. And they were all splayed across the floor, much to Kiku's horror, namely because he had forgotten - in lieu of his fevent editting - to actually place the pictures back in their designated container.

"Woah! Kiku!" Im-Yong Soo whistled, grabbing a _handful_ of pictures and gazing over them. "Why don't you share these pictures with us on New Year's Eve, da-ze~?" And here, he held up a geisha-made-up Yao that could very well have been five years old. "No fair!" Im-Yong Soo rightfully compalined, "How is it that _you_ manage to get Yao into these dresses and positions and _I_ don't?"

"Having the entire Sanrio franchise at your personal disposal is a pretty good way to start," Kiku dryly replied, picking up and off various pictures on the floor, and hoping that Im-Yong Soo wouldn't leak such information to Yao. No need in telling Yao that he was dead-set on photoshopping each and every picture, after all.

"Definitely unfair!" Im-Yong Soo whined. And then he grinned, holding a picture - the most recent one, of Yao as Miku, actually - in his hand, "I'll make you a deal, Kiku-_nim_~" Im-Yong Soo cheerily said, and Kiku just knew by the tone that he would be parting with a couple of his lovelies. "If you give me copies, da-ze~ - all portrait sized - of about... twenty... of these pictures, I won't tell Yao-_hyung_!"

"Deal," Kiku reluctantly replied.

"Yay!" Im-Yong Soo cheered. "Oh! And I came here because..." he fished out the red-and-gold letter, "Yao-_hyung_ sent me a letter, and I was wondering if he sent you a letter too!" Kiku's eyes widened, before he hastily pulled on his 'normal' (read: formal) attire and then made a rather mad dash for the nearby mailbox. "Did you get a letter?" Im-Yong Soo asked again, as Kiku scrambled tounlock said mailbox.

"...Yes..." The 'letter' was at the very bottom of the massive stack of letters, all of which Kiku would peruse through. On a later day, of course.

"Darn!" Im-Yong Soo grumbled. "And here, I thought that I was the only one who got a letter, da-ze~" And then he grinned, michievously, of course, "Well, if we're both going, then you can let me ride on one of your planes, right?"

(...)

"Mister Wang Yao hereby requests your attendance for the annual celebration of the Communist Party of China, to be held in the fifth building of the Presidential Quarters, in the Seventh District of Beijing. The celebration is expected to last for approximately four hours, from 8PM to 12PM (Chinese time) on the date of July 1, 2010, with drinks and entertainment provided. Please bring a present for the midnight gift exchange, feel free to bring along a friend!" Arthur read aloud, while sipping his morning tea.

He raised an eyebrow, muttering something along the lines of "I didn't even know they _had_ an annual celebration." And then he shrugged, because he had nothing in particular planned - it was a Thursday, after all - and the Summer Festivals had yet to begin. Although... the date of July 1st... a quick glance at his calendar, a small indistinguishable scribble was there. He squinted, attempting to make out his less-than-readable handwriting.

"A celebration?" A certain, familiar, frog-like voice piped up, throwing open the door in an overly-obtrusive manner. Arthur rolled his eyes, because _really_, "Où?" The Frenchman asked, eyes wide and sparkling blue. Arthur winced, before replying.

"Beijing. It's apparently for the Communist Party of China's birthday, I suppose?"

"Hmm..." Francis murmured, thinking it over, "Je ne savais rien, mais! I have nothing to do today... although as for the night..." he grinned - lasciviously - and Arthur wondered how it was possible that such a _frog_ could outdrink him five days to two, "Well anyways!" Francis continued, "Seeing as how I've nothing better to do, you can take me as your 'friend'!" And then he laughed, as if he had something particularly hilarious, "That is why I put the friend in quotations, non?"

"Bugger off..." Arthur grumbled, feeling the antioxidants (and their soothing qualities) washing away.

"Non, non, non!" Francis tutted in reply, "After all, it was I who won last night's drinking game, n'est-ce pas?" He had that godforsaken _smirk_ on again, and Arthur rolled his eyes. Again. But it was true, and the damn frog _had_ won.

(...)

Alfred, on the other hand, knew that there was no such thing as an annual celebration for the birth of the Communist Party of China. Or at least, he was pretty certain, as he - being their biggest trading partner - had never been invited to one, so perhaps it was a new thing or something. And then he laughed, because _really_? A new thing? China didn't _do_ new things, heck, _communism_ was pretty old.

It was this sort of selective memory that allowed him to forget the ages of his very own political parties, of course.

"Oh yeah, that totally makes sense!" he said suddenly, snapping his fingers and smiling. "Of course China would want to celebrate Independence Day three days before me - and probably take all the American spirit out of it too!"

And with _that_ mystery resolved, he quickly snatched up his cellphone, which had previously been laying in hamburger wrappers, dialling a couple numbers. Sure, the phone was coated in grease, but at least it still worked! "Hey, Jones!" Alfred cheerily said, "I know it's a bit early - well not really actually - but I was wondering if you had a couple fireworks for your most favorite customer of them all!" He grinned, while the other side pittered away. "Yeah, yeah, just list it off as 'White House Expenses' - my card's lost somewhere. Again."

There was an audible sigh from the other end of the line.

"What? No it _is_ important! These are international relations! These are foreign policy _doctrines_! These are life-and-death and import-and-export situations!" Alfred gesticulated wildly here. "Yes, yes, I get what you're saying. Anyways, how soon do you think I'm going to be able to pick up the fireworks?" A muffled response. "...Three days? You've _got_ to be kidding me! I need them in, like, five hours! Yes - in red, white and blue! I'm the USA, for crying out loud!"

Eventually - as per usual - the customer, aided by sheer volume and tenacity, won out. Alfred smiled, satisfied, before reclining in his chair and lazily slurping another smoothie. "Yao is definitely going to be surprised this Independence Day!" Alfred declared, before heading out to purchase the 'present' (luckily, he had read "The Worst-Case Survival Guide for Men" and deduced that 'present' really meant: more explosives).

"Man!" he said, to no one in particular, while striding down the streets of New York, "This Independence Day Celebration is going to be the _bomb_!"

(...)

"_Xiang_..." Taiwan tried, reaching out to a hand. Her fellow island batted it aside. Not in a rude manner, simply in a disappointed manner. She sighed. "_Xiang_," she started again, "I know this is the first time _Gege_ forgot, but you have to be less depressed about it! I mean... I mean..." she tried to think up some excuse that would still make both of them happy. She just couldn't.

"Are you going?" she asked instead. "Because if you aren't going, then I won't go either."

"I'm going," the other confirmed.

"You... you don't have to be like this," Taiwan tried. "It's absolutely alright for you to make a fuss, throw a tantrum. Things don't... you don't... you do not need to be so formal," she completed, lamely.

"It's alright," Hong Kong replied, even though it was clearly _not_ alright. "I mean..." he started, looking at his fingers, "It's not like we ever do much, right? We just... have a cake, and a couple candles..." he scoffed, "It's really more of a Western celebration anyways." He looked away. Taiwan choked back a sob - for the sake of her brother, because being forgotten was a common occurrence in an international community - so many people to meet and greet and sights to see.

"Maybe... maybe he's just pretending to forget...!" Taiwan piped up. And then smiled. "I mean, that's _got_ to be it, this is _Gege_ we're talking about, after all!" She looked to Hong Kong for confirmation, but the other simply continued looking out the window, twiddling his fingers. "Look, even if there isn't any celebration, I'm sure he'll come wish you good greetings. And isn't that all anyone really wants?"

"I know!" she grins, hoping - in any way - to cheer the other up, "Since today, I have no plans and you have no plans, let's go troll the streets and markets of New York; I'll buy you anything and everything you could possible want!"

Her sibling still doesn't reply, and she knows, even if the invitation is sitting on a table five feet away - having been excitedly torn open in morning - that he's still thinking about the invitation. To the celebration. For the Communist Party of China.

"_Jiejie_," Hong Kong starts, still refusing to look away from that one spot on the windowpane. Taiwan stiffens, because he hasn't used that name for her in years - 'older sister,' which, technically, she was. "It's alright," he repeats again, and if she hadn't known him for, well, _forever_, she would have said something along the lines of 'you're not fooling anyone with that line.' But she's a good sister - tries to be, at least - so she keeps quiet.

"Please don't get my hopes up like that," Hong Kong says, and the whole thing just breaks her heart.

(...)

It was - Yao had thought - a pretty brilliant idea, if he had to say so himself.

After renting out the appropriate movies - all with English!subtitles, so the larger portion of them could understand the whole movie in all its glory, and beautifically decorating the place, it was the only one-story building in this section of the Presidential quarters after all, he had bought a feast-load of food, and thirteen cakes (he had yet to think of a suitable explanation for this number). Naturally, he thought, this was sure to be the best celebration yet!

But of course, like the best of plans (or really, most plans in general), everything had the probability - and a rather large probability at that - to go wrong.

Murphy's Law, Alfred had called it. Yao had scoffed it off then. But that was then, and this is... this was...

"A _complete_ disaster, aru!" he wailed, as all the balloons he had bought decided that twenty-four hours was simply _too long_ to stay inflated. "I'll never pay so little for so many balloons," he muttered, pragmatically puncturing all of the balloons with a pencil-point, before tossing them out in the trash. A quick glance at the clock - 6:30 PM. He had told them seven, but he was absolutely certain that _certain_ people would have a knack for arriving early.

"YaoYao~" Right on time, Yao dryly supplied, running to the door. "I brought a present for you~" the other nation giggled, handing Yao a neatly-wrapped bottle. "It's the best of the best, da?" Ivan grinned, leaning down to peck a kiss. Yao smiled, albeit a bit gamely, tilting his head and allowing Ivan's lips to graze his right cheek - much to the other's disappointment.

"China!" Alfred called, about five seconds later, arriving with what seemed to be enough artillery to keep an army at bay. "Sweet~" he whistled, observing the various decorations and lights and cakes. "Woah! Russia?" he raised an eyebrow, after having noticed the other (who was eagerly sampling all the rice wine Yao had put out on the table so far), "How did you manage to beat me hear? I purposely arrived half an hour early to set up!"

"Great minds think alike, don't they, aru?" Yao quickly put in, hoping that the situation wouldn't escalate to a fight.

"Yao~ Yao~!" Francis' voice called, swinging open the door in his typical flamboyant fashion, "Such a lovely fête, now isn't it? Here's the housewarming present," he handed the other nation an exquisite replica of Marianne (Yao winced), "And here is the cadeau sécret~" he winked at Yao, handing the other a present that was wrapped in a terribly suspicious manner. "Arthur did the wrapping, you see," Francis explained, flicking off a wad of tape.

"Oh please," the island nation grumbled, coming up from behind, and dropping two equally-questionable packages on the table which Yao had placed the various offerings. "You're worse with a tape and a pair of scissors that I am." And before Francis could retort anything, Arthur grabbed Yao by the wrist, "Can I speak to you - privately?" he hissed, dragging the other to a corner.

"What about - ?" Yao wanted to ask, as he quickly glanced towards the about-to-arrive guests. Then he paused. "Do you hear that, aru?" he asked Arthur.

"No... what?"

"Hm," Yao furrowed his brow. "Must've been my imagination, I suppose. Anyways," he crossed his arms, as Arthur stopped walking, deeming this distance to be far away - and private - enough. "What is this all about, aru? There are guests that I need to welcome!"

"Kiku told me that Im-Yong Soo told him that Taiwan said that Hong Kong thinks that you've forgotten entirely about his birthday!" Arthur hissed out, glaring at Yao and pulling out a marginally more-neatly wrapped present. "I can't believe you," he growled, frowning, "What kind of parent-figure _are_ you? I mean, I never forget Alfred's birthday -"

"Mainly because it's three days apart from _Xiang Gang_'s," Yao retorts, before rolling his eyes, "And how can you _possibly_ think - even for a moment - that I've forgotten about his birthday? This whole _party_ is just a cover-up for the celebration, aru!"

"...What?" Arthur asked - eyes wide in disbelief.

"Yes," Yao huffed, "I didn't want to reveal it so early, but this whole party was made - there is no secret present exchange, you see? - to celebrate his birthday! I just didn't want to tell anyone because I was scared it wouldn't be a surprise, aru!"

"...Oh." Boy, did he feel foolish now. "W-well," Arthur stammered out, "Good job then! I'm sure Hong Kong will be happy to hear that."

"Then will you help me?" Yao asked, grinning cheekily, "You tell Alfred, Francis, and Ivan - I'll tell Kiku and Im-Yong Soo. When _Xiang Gang_ gets here, I want all of us to yell out 'Happy Birthday!'."

"In English," Arthur added - snidely.

"In English," Yao acquiesced, rolling his eyes, adding, "Though I wouldn't put it past Im-Yong Soo to shout something in Korean..."

(...)

Taiwan did not know what to expect when she and Hong Kong arrived at the party. Kiku and Im-Yong Soo had both been invited, further increasing the chances (and her hopes) that this would - indeed - be a birthday party for his brother. However, as they neared the fifth building in the seventh district - part of the Presidential quarters, of course, she saw not only Kiku and Im-Yong Soo, but Alfred, Arthur, Ivan, and even... Francis...?

"_Xiang_," she whispered - because could this really only be a political gathering to honor the anniversary of the founding of the CPC? The other island gave no response, simply walked forward, neither slow nor hurried, towards the meeting place.

"Thank you," he said to her - right before opening the door. It might've been a smile, if it hadn't looked so pained.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY XIANG GANG!" the various nations assembled in the room called out. Although it was a bit less smooth, particularly because Yao had _not_ been expecting Arthur to give halfway and actually use the Chinese name for Hong Kong. Embarrassing as it was, it was the Asians who used 'Hong Kong' in the greeting. Taiwan gasped, before clapping her hands, hugging her sibling and positively _beaming_.

"You see? You see?" she delighted, "I told you _Gege_ would never forget! I told you!" And then she grabbed the other by the hand, dragging him to the center of the festivities. Im-Yong Soo and Kiku were the first to greet him, hugging and shaking hands respectively - though both wish him well. Francis pecked him on the cheek, or attempted to, until both Arthur _and_ Yao kick-and-shoved the other aside. Ivan, of course presented Hong Kong with a bottle of vodka. And a truly terrifying smile. Yao and Arthur laughed and argued, muttering congratulations and condolences and the so-such.

"Happy?" Taiwan said, cocking her head and smiling - winsomely.

"Were you in on this?" he asked, flatly. She laughed, sheepishly, giving neither affirmation nor denial.

"Did you hear that?" Yao starts up again.

"Hear what?" Arthur asks.

"I heard it too, da-ze~ While Kiku and I were coming up to the building!" Im-Yong Soo replies. "We didn't know what it was and Kiku said it was probably a parade or something inside the city gates."

"But... but there _are_ no parades today," Yao stated. And then there was a pause, as everyone took that piece of information in, straining to hear the sound. All the while, the sound increased in volume - going from a dull buzz to a louder roar, until a distinct - and all too excited - voice could be made out from the background revving and vrooming of... an engine, perhaps?

"WE'RE GOING TO CRA~A~A~ASH VE~!"

Several things happened - simultaneously. Ivan looked up - and saw the Benz SLS AMG coming at unprecedented speeds - and then proceeded to run straight out the door. Alfred, thinking the whole thing was a wild game, gave a whoop and chased after. Taiwan was shoved out by Im-Yong Soo, who managed to drag a disoriented Kiku in his wake. Francis, taking the same route as Alfred, gave an 'allons-y!' before running out.

"I have to save the cakes, aru!" Yao insisted, even while the car was soaring. Up - above overhead - and Kiku could clearly head Ludwig. Screaming.

"Yao!" Seven different voices called - all with varying degrees of horror.

"Bloody bugger...!" Arthur swore, running towards the soon-to-be-demolished building. However, someone else managed to arrive there beforehand.

"Always so overdone," Hong Kong muttered, grabbing the other by the hand, while tossing one of the cakes - the green one, Yao dimly thought - to Arthur, who caught it, albeit with some more English swears in the mix. Somehow or another, they managed to crash through the window, as the distance from the cake table to the door was too far. Just as Yao was recovering from the realization that said window was _open_ - which was the main reason why neither of them were embedded with glass - the car landed.

About twenty feet before the house - which made those who had dragged everyone to the fourty-foot clearance seem a _lot_ smarter.

And then the car kept going.

"WHEE~!" Feliciano whooped. _Whooped_, as the car crashed into the house. Ludwig screamed, then shut up, and then hauled both Gilbert and Feliciano bodily out of the car. Which was good news, because, as Ivan had the instincts to point out -

"The vodka!"

- It was only a matter of time before the oil from the engine met up with said jug of alcohol. Particularly if said Benz SLS AMG was _already_ slightly on fire. Hong Kong stared, Yao gaped, and Arthur swore some more, as the meeting room - celebration place, really - comically went up in flame.

"No fair!" Alfred cried foul as Ludwig heaved, panted, and then threw the two mischief-makers on the ground.

"We... are... never... driving... again...!" Ludwig gasped out, before collapsing on the concrete.

"C'mon West!" Gilbert was, evidently, in a good enough condition to retort, "We managed to make it here within a _day_!"

"I don't even want to know, aru," Yao disclaimed, walking towards the rest of the, ahem, _survivors_. Miraculously, it was only the center of the building that had exploded, and as such, the flames were relatively easy to put out. Even more surprising was the fact that the three crazy drivers (well, one driver, two passengers) suffered only minor _bruises_ and no actual burns. Although, on Ludwig's side, some healthy dose of psychological trauma was evident.

(...)

All in all, it had been a successful party, Yao thought, sitting back - sipping juice (scavenged from the trunk of the car) - and watching the fireworks explode. Outside.

Sure, Alfred had managed to write the characters for Hong Kong... _completely wrong_... and no, actually, China's national colors were _not_ red, white, and blue, but all the same, the display had been a pleasure to view - and Hong Kong seemed to enjoy it greatly. Arthur, of course, muttered something about 'bloody Americans,' whereas Francis had simply laughed aloud behind his hand. Feliciano clapped wildly, and Gilbert had hooted. Ludwig was probably still busy 'recuperating'.

"Happy Birthday, _Xiang Gang_!" Yao exclaimed with a smile as he approached the boy-come-man of the hour, "I heard from Kiku and Im-Yong Soo that you thought that I had forgot, aru!" He knelt down, pressing a kiss to the other's forehead and laughing as the island flushed deeply. "I'm so sorry it seemed that way," he said with a grin, "And I am absolutely not mad that you and Taiwan showed me that... that video." This time, it was Yao's turn to blush, thinking back to the... more vivid moments. Hong Kong and Taiwan both dropped their jaws - in unison.

Yao cleared his throat, continuing with, "Are you happy?"

"Yes," Hong Kong replied, with a slow smile - one was illuminated perfectly by the huge "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" that lit up the eastern sky. Yao, of course, was smiling - with just as much enthusiasm and joy. "Yes, I am." The island whispered, before adding, "Thank you, Yao-_ge_."

"A-hem!" Gilbert cleared his throat, as the first sparks of the grand finale made their way into the night, "I would - on behalf of my little brother, West, who is a total pansy and cannot stand 200 miles for 24 hours - like to start a toast, to the birthday boy!" He lifted his bottle, filled with the finest - in fact, only - imported Krombacher that money could buy. Driven straight from the source, actually, much to Ludwig's horror. "To many more wild nights and happy days..." he recited, before pausing, "You know what, fuck that; have a good birthday! Go wild!"

"And make sure to eat lots and lots of spicy pasta!" Feliciano chimed in.

"Cheers~aru!" Yao declared, raising his own Krombacher bottle into the air.

"Cheers!"

The clinking from the various bottles and glasses were effectively drowned out by the red, white, and blue (all of which - suspiciously - grandly exploded into a huge American flag, sans fifty stars) which cascaded over the whole of the harbor, dimming and falling to look like shooting stars.

"Quickly! Make a wish!" Taiwan reminded her sibling.

And maturity and logic and rationality be damned - Hong Kong closed his eyes, and pretended to blow out the whole army of stars.

(...)

finally! It's over~ I actually really liked the character choices I made for this fic, turned out to be Axis, Allies, and Asians! Thank you all for being so sweet and supportive (and, hell, falling off your chair laughing is pretty supportive, I would think~) all the way through! I hope you enjoyed this really cracky take at international relations, and happy birthday - to the CPC _and_ Hong Kong! *shot*


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